Lovesick
by Chockfullo'nuts
Summary: What's up with Chase? Set around season two - original ducklings, no Tritter. May eventually be slash, no smut though.
1. Chapter 1

**Lovesick**

Robert Chase sighed in relief as the receptionist smiled reassuringly. He was late for work – again – and as everyone at PPTH knew, House did not react well to

his fellows coming in later than himself. But Brenda's relaxed face told the blond doctor that House hadn't arrived yet so, today, he would not be ridiculed

before even starting the regular day's work. Chase waved to Brenda and hurried on to the elevators. As the metal doors slid open, he stepped in and slumped

against the wall, rubbing his tired eyes. Suddenly, a harsh voice made him look up. "Chase!" House called from the reception desk, and the young doctor

winced. He had been caught after all. Reluctantly, he grabbed the doors to keep them from sliding shut, while his boss limped across the lobby.

"Morning..." Chase said when the older doctor had arrived.

"You're late!" House shot back, and his employee swallowed.

"Sorry." House snorted.

Having arrived at the conference room, House twirled his cane. "Riiiight...I gotta go hide from Cuddy. Foreman, get started on the blood works. Chase, you can

do the angiogram and Cameron...uh...go complete my clinic hours!" Foreman and Cameron got up to leave, while the remaining fellow sat staring into space.

House frowned. "Chase?" No reaction. "_Chase_!" House shouted, whacking his cane on the floor. The blonde doctor started and looked at his boss with

confused eyes. House glared at him. "Angiogram. _Get_!" Chase nodded.

"Yeah..uh...right." He hurried out of the room, following his two colleagues down the hallway. House shook his head in annoyance. His favourite wombat had

been distracted the whole week, not even contributing to differentials. Scowling, he started tossing his ball against the wall.

When his fellows returned with their test results, House was already standing at the whiteboard, waiting impatiently. The ducklings sat down, Cameron

launching into a speech about the patient's condition, but House cut her off, pointing his cane at the youngest of his team. "We don't need you, Wombat.

You're going home!" Chase's jaw dropped.

"What? Why?" His boss raised an eyebrow. "You haven't done anything but sit around wallowing in your love-sickness all day long. You're no use to me like

that...and also, it's pathetic. So you're leaving." The blonde doctor frowned.

"You're letting me go home? Just like that?" House smiled evilly.

"Well...you're using one of your leave days, of course." Chase gaped at the diagnostician. He laughed uncertainly.

"You can't _make_ me take a day off!" he argued.

"Wow..." his boss began, his eyes glinting dangerously, "That sure does sound like a challenge. I can make you do anything I feel like. Wanna bet?" Chase

shared a look with his colleagues and then glanced back at the department head.

"No..." he admitted, defeated, "I'll go." House smiled serenely, before turning to his two remaining employees.


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning, the Australian got woken up by a shrill beeping. It was not even four a.m. and, mumbling curses, he grabbed his pager. Tiredly, he squinted at the flashing message. "Get in here" it read. Chase rolled his eyes. House, of course. The patient had probably continued to decline and had now reached the critical stage...quickly, the intensivist pulled on some pants and a shirt, grabbing his keys. He was out the door in less than a minute.

At the hospital, Chase walked up to the completely deserted conference room. Frowning, he went inside and noticed the table. A pile of medical books sat in the middle of it, on the topmost of which a post-it had been stuck. "Morning, Wombat..." it read, "...patient's fine, but I thought you'd need some time to prepare yourself for your demanding job. No dreaming of your girlie today, get that? We'll be in at seven...ish..." At the bottom, House had scribbled a tiny face with a smirk just like his own. Chase groaned. He sat down and rested his forehead against the cool glass table. Just for a second...

"_Chase_!" The blonde doctor started. Sunshine was flooding in the office, and Foreman's face came into focus gradually. "What are you doing here this early, and how come you were sleeping on what appears to be my edition of 'Nephrology through the Centuries'?" Chase was trying to answer those questions, but found that he didn't really know. "I...got a page. And..." he rubbed his temples. "Uh, yeah – I guess House just wanted to ruin my night." Foreman looked at his colleague in amazement. House could certainly be insufferable when he put his mind to it. Shaking his head, Foreman sat down and started sorting some papers. Chase poured himself a cup of coffee. As the hot liquid touched his lips, he felt his tired brain jerk awake. He looked at the clock – almost seven. At least House hadn't found him asleep – if he knew the plan of making his youngest fellow lose three hours of rest had failed, he would be in a bad mood all day.

Not surprisingly, House took his sweet time. It was nearly nine when he finally got in. Chase stared at him with as intimidating a glare as he could muster – which actually wasn't all that terrifying. "What'd you wake me up for?" he grumbled. His boss grinned happily. "Well, since you're at least talking today, it must have worked." Chase rolled his eyes, searching for an appropriate response which didn't involve the words 'fuck' or 'off'. Before he managed to say anything, though, Foreman cut in: "Do you want to keep making fun of Chase or can we get back to our case?" House scoffed. "Hard to do, since I haven't _accepted_ a new case yet...and last I checked, you weren't allowed to do so, my lowly minion." It was exactly the kind of thing to say to Foreman to make him shut up, which he did, scowling. Cameron passed her boss a file. "From Cuddy. You just missed her." The diagnostician made puppy dog eyes. "Oh noooo...Cuddles." He leafed through the file, his expression changing from bored to mildly interested. "Hm..." he allowed, "this could actually get fun. White count?" "Through the roof." Cameron replied. House nodded. "Fine. Go take a history, check for toxins, the usual. I'll go have breakfast, page me when it gets interesting." Silently, his fellows filed out.

It was nearly three when House, relaxing in one of the patient rooms, got the requested page. He grabbed coma guy's phone and called back, curious as to what his lackeys had been up to. Chase answered. "Hi..." he said, his accent unusually thick. The department head pounced on that amusing fact immediately. "Have you been crying, Aussie boy?" Silence. House waited a few seconds, then hissed: "You're on the phone, freak. _Talk_!" Chase gulped. "Um...patient was jaundiced. So I gave her...um..." "You what?" House cut in. "I remember telling you to page me when it got interesting. How did you get 'treat her for whatever you think it is' from that?" Chase sounded completely crestfallen. "I don't know, I just - " Foreman grabbed the phone from him. "House?" he said, "She's heading towards cardiac arrest." The older doctor didn't waste any more time. "I'm coming. Tell Chase he's in for it!" Foreman listened to the dial tone, glancing at his colleague. The intensivist was gnawing on his lip and looked absolutely terrified. "I don't think I need to..." mumbled Foreman, hanging up the phone.

"She's responding well." Cameron sighed in relief as Foreman entered the diagnostic's lounge with those news. It was four a.m., House and his team had spent the whole night agonizing over their patient. Now, all but one of the doctors relaxed. Chase didn't find anything particularly soothing in the knowledge that he was going to get skinned alive. He shot a look at his boss and prepared for the onslaught. And he didn't have to wait long: "_Chase_!" House growled. "Yeah?" the Australian mumbled, trying to appear oblivious. "Patient's getting better, Dr. Chase. What does that tell us?" The intensivist refused to meet his eyes. "You were right..." he said. House glared at him. "And? Chase gulped. "I...messed up?" "Exactly." the older doctor agreed. "No more treating innocent patients for diseases they don't have!" Chase struggled for words. "I...I know I shouldn't have. But hep B seemed like it fit and you weren't there - " "Shut up!" House ordered, "No one's interested in your excuses. You were distracted, as you've been for the last four days, and he could have died because of your incompetence." "Patient's female..." Chase muttered, but a cane was brought down on the table in front of him with a resounding crack and he swallowed. "Cameron, Foreman, go home." House said. "Chase - " he dumped a stack of paperwork on the table in front of his youngest fellow - "you keep busy with this. Get up from that chair without my permission and you're fired. Got that?" The blonde doctor nodded silently. House glared at him once more and then left, Cameron and Foreman following shortly after. Throwing pitying glances at their colleague – Foreman secretly, Cameron decidedly more open – they closed the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lovesick Chapter 3**

**A/N:** Thanks, xAllThatIsGoldx and LastingDreams. And lacime, I know...it kills me to make Chase sad, but it'll end well, I promise! :)

Nothing's mine!

* * *

><p>Four hours later, all except for House himself were back at work. Chase was tapping away at the keyboard frantically – while struggling to keep his eyes open. Foreman looked over at him, annoyed. "Come on, get out already. He's not gonna fire you for taking a nap after working for twenty-eight hours straight." Chase glared angrily. House may not fire him, but he'd find a way to make his intensivist pay, and Foreman knew it.<p>

At the other side of the table, Cameron was getting extremely worked up over her colleague's state. The blonde doctor hadn't slept at all, and the shock of very nearly killing someone was clearly visible on his tired face. "You really should go home, rest for a bit..." she suggested worriedly. "Yeah, right..." Chase scoffed, "because that's what you'd do after he'd ordered you to stay?" "I sure hope not!" came the gruff voice from the doorway, and House appeared at last. "Well, Wombat, I see you've been good despite the cool kids telling you that you're just a party pooper...I'm impressed! Foreman, Cameron, go find me a case. Cuddy wants me to go to some conference thingy with her, so we need something easy to keep us busy _just _until she's out the door. Go on, shoo!" he pointed his cane at the door, and both doctors left, Foreman rolling his eyes so hard that it seemed he was intent on studying his _own_ brain for a change. House meanwhile threw his backpack into the corner and retreated into his office. Chase stared after him absent-mindedly until he heard an authoritative voice. "Back to work, Englishman!" Sighing quietly, the young doctor started typing again.

Foreman arrived back at the office with a case that was nothing more than the flu in such a blatantly obvious way that House was entirely satisfied. He sent the team off to do a series of pointless tests and then went into hiding to avoid the arrival of Cuddy – who would undoubtedly want to make sure her diagnostician was working. When the ducklings walked back into the conference room, though, they were surprised to find a pile of medical folders sitting on the table and something already written on the white board:

"_Found you an actual case, to keep you busy until_

_five – which is when we'll be leaving!_

_And also, that little stunt earned you five more_

_clinic hours. Congrats!_

_L.C."_

All three young doctors smiled happily but didn't get to discuss it, since at that moment their boss appeared. He glanced at the board, then glared at his employees. Cameron was suspiciously busy with one of the patient charts, Chase was trying to hide his grin and failing, and Foreman was smirking openly. "Who told her?" House asked, in a tone of voice which made all three of them avoid his gaze and Chase gulp nervously. At last, Cameron spoke up. "No-one told her, House. She just had to take one look at our patient's chart..." The department head scowled, but knew she was right. "Well, go on then. Differential diagnosis for..." he scanned the file he had picked up, "diarrhoea, weight loss, rash and auditory hallucinations in a 32-year-old. And worth saving, I guess, since she's got a kid."

"Did you come into contact with any new cosmetics, Laura? Cleaning liquids, paint, anything at all?" The dark-haired woman shook her head worriedly. "Nothing. I didn't even notice the rash at first, and I thought I was hearing sirens because – well, because there were actual sirens to hear. But when Nicky didn't react..." she was indicating a five-year-old who was crouching on the floor, busily drawing. He had a fistful of pencils in his left hand and paid no attention to his mother or the two doctors that had entered. Cameron wrote a note on her chart and looked up at the patient again. "Do you own any pets?"

The case proved more twisted than everyone had assumed. At five, all the usual suspects were ruled out. Cuddy had grudgingly agreed to let her star diagnostician stay at the hospital, but had threatened him with an incredible amount of paperwork as revenge for him inconveniencing her before. This, of course, hadn't really improved House's mood. He had gone to complain to Wilson while his employees finished up with several more tests.

A short while later, the team was sitting in the office, waiting for their boss. However, somebody else arrived first. "I'm hungry..." the little boy whined, pushing himself into the room after struggling with the glass door. He looked at Chase pleadingly, trusting the man that had brought him colouring pencils and a lolly before. Chase shared a glance with his colleague. "Where's you mom, Nicky?" "She's sleeping. And I'm really hungry!" Cameron smiled. "Well, we should let her sleep then, shouldn't we? I'll go tell a nurse where you are so she won't worry when she wakes up, and Dr. Chase can take you to the cafeteria." Nicky smiled and nodded happily, and Cameron left. "Come on!" Nicky said, taking the blond doctor's hand and pulling him towards the door. Chase raised his eyebrows at a smirking Foreman, and then followed the little boy.

A few minutes later, Chase and Nicky were back in the conference room, Nicky munching on a plate of french fries and ketchup. House was sitting in his office and looked up when he heard the child greet Foreman. "Chase!" House barked, and the Australian flinched. He went over to House's office. "What's the kid doing here?" the older doctor growled. "He...his mom's sleeping, and we're still waiting on the results of the angiogram, so..." House rolled his eyes. "Fine. But he better not get annoying." Chase nodded at that, and was released with a gesture.

However, all but two minutes later, Nicky had grown bored with eating quietly. "I want a bike for Christmas, but I don't know if Santa will be able to carry it. 'Cause bikes are waaayyy heavy, I know 'cause I lifted Joycelin's bike all on my own, and then I dropped it." The little boy chewed his lip worriedly, "Joycelin cried, and she said -" "Chase...!" House's gravelly voice sounded through the glass wall to his office again. The Australian got up reluctantly. "I'll be right back, Nicky!" he promised. Chase went over to the connecting wall and stood in the doorway, waiting. When House looked up from his nintendo, the young doctor backed away, seeing the furious look his boss was wearing. "Shut that kid up _right now_, or you'll be doing paperwork for a month." Chase nodded fervently. "Right, yeah. Sure. Sorry!" he mumbled, stumbling backwards.

Nicky was staring at the Australian in wide-eyed amazement when he reappeared. "Who's in there?" he whispered, and Chase put a finger to his lips. "My boss. He's...working, so be very quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?" Nicky nodded seriously. "Promise!" he said, and smiled as Chase gave him the thumbs-up sign.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**_ Thanks for the reviews, everybody. They made me happy and, as you can see, I write faster when I'm happy. But I'll keep writing even if you don't review, so don't feel pressured. :) By the way – please point out any grammatical errors, etc. I'm not a native speaker, and I wouldn't want you to become annoyed, spoiling your fun._

* * *

><p>Nicky, eager not to get his new friend into any more trouble, managed to eat his supper in utter silence. When he had finished, he stared at the door to House's office, fascinated. He was spell-bound in the same way children are standing in front of the lion's cage at the zoo. He shot a look at Chase, asking for permission to sneak closer, but the Australian shook his head sternly, and warning stares from the other two doctors made the boy accept his fate. Chase got up and took Nicky's hand, pointing at the door to the hallway.<p>

"Are you scared of him?" the boy asked, the second the door had closed behind them. Chase grimaced, quickening his step. When they were safely out of earshot, he shrugged. "No...not scared, really. But he can get pretty mean." "How?" "Well, if he gets annoyed, he makes me stay at work longer, for example." Nicky nodded, understanding. "Like detention. My friend David is eight, and he's always in detention. He's bad a lot, but he's still my friend!" "Yeah...that's good...listen, do you want me to take you to the children's playroom? They've got video games, board games, books – and you can play with the other kids." The little boy smiled. "Yeah, okay. But you'll stay with me, right?" "For a while." Chase agreed.

An hour later, the two of them were relaxing on a purple bean-bag, Nicky exhausted from exploring. "So the ginger rabbit tied a knot in one of his looong ears..." Chase was reading, "...to remember that he had to buy a present for - " Suddenly, the Australian's pager interrupted. He frowned at the message: "Get back, pot roast is getting cold." it flashed. Shaking his head, he lifted the boy from his lap. "I'm sorry, I have to go." "Noooo..." Nicky whined, screwing up his face. "I have to. My boss wants me back in the office." The child sighed. "Then you have to go..." "Exactly. Would you like to stay here, or do you want me to take you back to your mom?" Nicky eyed the other children uncertainly, then seemed to decide to be brave. "I want to stay." he tugged on Chase's shirt, motioning for him to crouch down. "What if the other kids won't let me play?" he whispered worriedly. The young doctor smiled. "They'll let you play. And if you need anything, you just tell Sandy, okay?" Nicky's eyes lit up at the mention of the young woman at the arts and crafts table. "Yeah, I like Sandy, she made me my poodle!" Chase patted his head. "There you go. And I'll let you mom know where you are now. I'll see you later, little man." "Byebye!" Nicky waved to him and then, hugging his felt poodle, walked over to the other children.

Despite having taken off at a run as soon as he'd left the playroom, Chase arrived at the conference room quite a bit later than House could accept. "Where've_ you_ been?" he spat. "Sorry. I took Nicky to the playroom, couldn't get away any sooner." "Who the hell is Nicky?" The blonde rolled his eyes. "Patient's son!" The older doctor smirked. "Good god, now he's into five-year-olds. They're getting younger and younger, Chase. Midlife crisis much?" The Australian plastered on a fake smile, willing his boss to finally get on with the differential. Luckily, Foreman came to the rescue. "Could be sarccoidosis." he mused. "No way, wouldn't explain the auditory hallucinations." "She hasn't had any since she's been here, it's possible that..." Soon the differential was in full swing, but Chase wasn't concentrating as he should have been. He tried to convince himself that he was just annoyed because of House's remarks, but knew that actually, that wasn't what he was thinking of at all. Instead, a certain girl was on his mind. Janie...

Once again, it was his caustic boss that put an end to his daydreaming. "Cameron, biopsy. You - " House pointed at Foreman, "Go search her home. Chase, you're with me." Foreman glared, annoyed at having to do another home search. "Make somebody else commit felonies for once. I know I have mad Gangsta skills, but actually, I'm a doctor as well..." House snorted. "No you're not. That's just what we tell people, so I get to keep you. Remember? Now shut up and leave, I have to admit I'm not exactly interested in whether you'll be enjoying your tasks." Scowling, Foreman left, Cameron following him. Chase was still sitting at the table, staring at its glass top. He expected to be chewed out again for not paying attention, so he looked up in surprise when, instead, the diagnostician said, "So, tell me all about her!" "Um...about who?" he was stalling. Something which never worked with House. "'Bout your girlfriend. Or boyfriend, I wouldn't know. Come on!" His employee groaned. "There's nothing to tell. I'm single. Not that you'll believe me..." "I don't. Tell me, you know I'll make you regret it if you don't." Chase looked absolutely miserable. He couldn't admit he was in love, much less start talking about Janie. He'd never hear the end of it. So he just tried to look as innocent as possible and resigned himself to be assigned some arbitrary task. He didn't have to wait long. "See that box of magazines?" House indicated a large carton full of old medical journals standing beside the bookcase. "I want you to catalogue all the issues. Publishing date, top five most interesting articles and their authors. And editor, of course." Chase smiled tiredly. "Editors, yeah, of course. Wouldn't want to miss those." He started walking over to computer table, but when he reached out to turn it on, House's voice stopped him. " You won't be needing that. Your handwriting is awful, you can use the practice. But I better be able to read it. Otherwise, you might find you'll be doing it all over again." The Australian slumped and, recognizing defeat, went over to the box of journals.

House was sitting in his office listening to the rustle of paper, Chase's scribbling and quiet sighs every now and again, when he heard something else. "You won't ever look at this list again, right? You're punishing me. What for?" House went over to the conference table, finding his employee staring at him somewhat sullenly. "I resent the accusation!" the older doctor said in a mock hurt voice. Then, he continued curtly, "I want you to do your job." The blond snorted. "That's rich. I've been here for close to forty hours. I've done my fair share of tests, I did your reports and I took care of Nicky. And knowing you, you will probably make me do those extra clinic hours Cuddy gave you today before letting me go home. And I'll do them, you know I will. When do I ever not do what you tell me to?" House's gaze was steely. "I need you to not only do it, I need you to do it well. You're being unprofessional, you're not concentrating." "Maybe I'd be able to concentrate if you'd let me sleep sometimes. And are _you_ seriously accusing _me_ of neglecting patients because of personal problems?" House didn't answer, and the Australian's determined expression slowly turned fearful. When Chase realised exactly what he'd said, he scrunched his eyes shut, waiting to be smacked painfully with a certain cane. House smirked at his fearful wombat. When the expected blow came, Chase clenched his teeth and suppressed the urge to strike back, reminding himself of the consequences that would ensue. "You're in charge of all files for the next two weeks." House informed him, turning to go and leaving the duckling to his work.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _Just a short last one. I couldn't stop writing today. verlan, "The Trip" should be your kind of story, but I'm still working on that. Won't be long! Thanks Pallada! :) _

It was after seven when Foreman arrived back in the conference room, joining his colleagues. "Nothing." he sighed, then frowned at Chase. "What are you doing?" he

asked. The Australian looked up. "Sorting medical journals. I mean, that's important, isn't it? Not like we got patients to cure..." He carried on scribbling down information,

but his hand was beginning to hurt and, frankly, he was pissed off. When House walked in, whistling happily, it was all he could do to keep himself from storming out.

"So..." the diagnostician said, "Amaze me!"

Because the team had nothing new to go on, and Laura's condition was stable, House sent Cameron and Foreman home right after the differential. He ignored Chase, and

the blond started chewing caffeine tablets so he wouldn't drop down right there. He didn't dare ask his boss when he'd be able to go home, certain that asking questions

would only provoke the older doctor. So, he settled down at the table, forcing himself to write line after line.

At eight, House grabbed his backpack and coat and was gone, not even glancing at his youngest employee. Chase almost started crying. He couldn't stand another night

without sleep...but on the other hand, if he went home, this treatment would go on even longer. He went over to the sink, splashing his face with cold water. "You're still

here?" Chase started and turned around. Wilson looked at him questioningly, "I thought you'd all left." "I...yeah. House sent the others home. And he's gone, too." "And

what about you?" "I don't know. House never said I could leave." The oncologist studied the younger doctor pityingly. Chase didn't look good. Worried, and utterly

exhausted. His speech was slurred, and he was having trouble walking straight. "Go home. I'll take it up with him." The blond snorted. "No way." Wilson sighed, then,

shaking his head, he pulled out his cellphone. He dialled his best friend's number while Chase was shaking his head frantically. "Don't, Wilson! You'll only make it worse,

please don't call him. Please don't!"

House answered at the first ring. "What's up?" he asked. "Hey. I need a favour." "And you're calling me...unlikely. Let's hear it." Wilson sighed. "I know it wouldn't be any

use asking you to do something for me. But I need a ride to work tomorrow morning, and I was thinking maybe if I asked Foreman? Cameron lives too far away." House

was chewing something and didn't answer for a couple of seconds. Then, he asked, "When do you need to be in?" "Six at the latest. Which is why I thought I should clear

it with you first. I know your team doesn't get in that early normally, and I thought maybe you could offer him an early lunch break or something..." The diagnostician

groaned. "Wilson. You're a wuss. No way am I letting one of my lackeys start slacking just because he had to get up half an hour earlier." "Half an hour...hardly." the

oncologist mumbled, but House paid no attention. "How come you didn't mention Chase? Feel safer with a black guy in the car?" Wilson rolled his eyes at Chase, who was

listening to every word. "Ha Ha. Actually, I didn't mention Chase because I know you're making him stay nights again, and I don't feel safe driving with someone barely

functioning." House thought about that for a moment, then said, "No. Chase is in the doghouse at the moment, you can use him. Don't want him sleeping in anyway. I'll

send him home now, so he'll be fine by tomorrow." Wilson winked at Chase, who looked utterly confused. "Why won't you stop torturing him?" Wilson protested, "I'll ask

Foreman, let Chase have a good night's sleep for once." When House spoke again, he sounded annoyed. "You're not calling Foreman. You're calling Chase. Actually, don't

bother. I'll tell him. He'll be at your place at 5:30 tomorrow."

Wilson started to reply, but House had already hung up. A second later, the office phone started ringing. Chase looked at Wilson, then grabbed the receiver. "Yes?" he

asked, tiredness slurring even that one single word. "Dr. Chase, what a pleasure. You can leave." House paused, and Chase wondered what he was supposed to say.

"Uh...thanks?" he tried finally. "Sure." the older doctor answered, adding, "Also, you're fetching Wilson from his place at 5:30 tomorrow. Don't you dare be late." The

Australian nodded, then, realizing House wasn't in the room, said "Sure.". A second later, House had hung up. Wilson smiled at the younger doctor. "I don't actually need

a ride to work. Well, I do, but not until 8:30. How does that sound?" Chase could have kissed him.

An hour, a hot bath and some scrambled eggs on toast later, Chase climbed under the covers. He was looking forward to almost ten hours of blissful sleep, and he

couldn't wait for them to begin.


	6. Chapter 6

It was exactly 5:20h when Chase's dreams of a good night's sleep were destroyed. He bolted upright, grabbing his angrily vibrating mobile from the nightstand. Groggily,

he snapped it open and held it to his ear. "Yeah?" the intensivist asked, voice still heavy with sleep. In his apartment, House narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His leg had

been bothering him, giving him the idea to take a bath and – when that wouldn't help – annoy his youngest duckling for a while. But now he was curious. "How come you

sound so tired, Aussie?" he asked. Chase looked at his alarm clock. Shit. House would expect him to be on his way over to Wilson's. "I'm...I'm not fully awake yet." the

young doctor mumbled. "I mean, I haven't gotten a lot of sleep recently." House scoffed. "You're a doctor, get used to it. Where are you?" Chase cringed. Lying to his boss

was not a good idea, generally. But this lie would be necessary to cover up another one, so it couldn't be helped. "I'm in the car in front of Wilson's flat, he's getting

ready." "You're early. Thought I told you to be on time?" "Actually, you only told me not to be late." This response got a snort from the diagnostician. "Funny. Anyways...I

just called to let you know that while you're waiting for everyone to get in, I think Cuddy assigned you some extra clinic hours." Chase grimaced. How was he going to get

out of that? "Not exactly. She assigned them to you." House sighed. "Really? I forget. Well, that's fine then – see you later!" The Australian could hardly believe his ears.

"O...kay..." he said, hesitantly. Then, House spoke again, curtly, "Do those hours." He hung up.

Chase let his head fall back onto the pillow. Perfect. He definetely didn't want to have to explain to House why he'd decided not to do his clinic duty. With a worried frown,

he started punching in Wilson's number on the cellphone.

"Yes?" Wilson said, sounding very much like Chase had only a few minutes ago. "I'm sorry to wake you," the intensivist began, "but...House just called me. He wants me

doing clinic hours. Like, now." The oncologist was rubbing his eyes. "And you're not at the hospital. Because we – I – lied to House. Damn. I'm sorry." Chase kept quiet,

and Wilson realised what the other man was trying to say. "You're thinking about going in, aren't you?" "I don't exactly have a choice." The blond doctor sounded

annoyed. Wilson was still trying to wake up, and not exactly succeeding. "Well, how about you go in, do the hours, and I'll ask Foreman to drive me – no. That would get

out to House, wouldn't it? Oh man. I remember why I try not to play games with him. Well, I guess there's nothing to do about it, there's no-one else I can ask to give me

a ride now. If you can come fetch me now, I'll get ready as fast as I can." Chase nodded. "Thanks!" he said, hanging up. As he was getting dressed, he wondered why he

had to be thankful, getting up at five thirty in the morning just to please his boss.

Wilson was buttoning his shirt when he was startled by the sound of the doorbell. Glancing at his watch, he shook his head in amazement before hurrying to let his

colleague in. "How did you get here so fast?" he inquired, as he had spoken to the person now standing in front of him less than fifteen minutes ago. Chase shrugged.

"I'm used to being ordered out of bed." Wilson chuckled quietly. "Right. Well, sorry, but I'm not quite done. Would you like a cup of coffee?" The intensivist shook his head,

leaning against the doorframe. He bit his lip nervously. "House generally checks at what time I signed in at the clinic..." he explained, answering the oncologist's

questioning look. Wilson ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. "I'll...cover for you, we can just say I overslept. Okay?" House would never believe that,

and Wilson knew it. But Chase nodded and plastered on a smile. After all, it wasn't the oncologist's fault House was a jerk.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chase jumped out of the car and practically sprinted up to the clinic. "Morning, Kerry!" he greeted the nurse on duty, continuing, "Dr.

House checks in." Kerry nodded at him, giving the young doctor a pitiful look. Today, Chase felt it was entirely appropriate. It was ten past six, a fact he would

undoubtedly be reamed out for later, and he did not exactly look forward to hours of clinic duty either. Mentally shaking himself, he grabbed a patient chart. It wasn't the

time or place for self-pity.

"Page Chase." House ordered, and Foreman obliged. A few seconds later, the intensivist felt his pager vibrating. "House wants you up here." Foreman had written. Chase

sighed in relief. Anything had to be better than another patient who insisted that his stomach flu absolutely had to be a rare and possibly fatal illness. After signing out, he

hurried up to the diagnostic department.

"Morning!" he said, entering the conference room. Cameron smiled and Foreman mumbled a greeting, while House just stared at him. "Patient's liver is failing." the

diagnostician informed his youngest employee. Chase grimaced. He sat down at the table, grabbing one of the bagels Cameron had brought in. He thanked her with a

glance and started eating hungrily, not having had any breakfast yet. It was only nine, but his day had started early. House started spinning his cane between his hands.

Chase looked away, he was getting dizzy just watching. "Go get an MRI." the department head instructed. Foreman got up, Cameron followed. Chase was eyeing the

coffee machine wistfully, then, glancing at his boss, decided it would be wise to leave.

When the MRI didn't reveal any lesions, the team was back to square one. They were in the conference room again, growing more and more frustrated. House had been

staring into space, waiting for an epiphany – but suddenly, the older doctor glared. "Foreman!" he barked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His employee's eyes

widened in shock. "I'm uh...making coffee?" he asked tentatively. "You touched my special cup!" House whined like a two-year-old, glancing at Chase and Cameron for

support. Foreman counted to five silently, willing himself to stay calm. "I've been working with you long enough to know you'd rip my head off – I did _not_ touch your cup."

The department head pouted. "Did too!" he insisted. "House." Chase groaned, "Just...shut up!" House smirked. He turned away from Foreman, having found a new and

much more suitable victim. He stared at Chase until the blonde doctor cringed visibly. He was in trouble – again – and he knew it. "Did _you_ just tell _me_ to shut up?" House

asked serenely. Chase refused to meet his gaze. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for his boss to pounce. Finally, the diagnostician went on: "You're irritable today.

Which irritates me. So now you can organize our kitchen cabinets." When the Australian scowled, House glared at him, daring his employee to refuse. "Consider it payback

for taking your sweet time this morning. Get going." Chase clenched his fists, but walked over to the kitchen counter. There, he turned around, looking at his boss with a

mixture of hurt, anger and annoyance. House looked back, unfazed. Rolling his eyes as soon as he had turned around, Chase groaned inaudibly and began sorting out

boxes of tea, peanut butter jars and stale cookies.

About half an hour later, the intensivist's mobile buzzed. Chase tried to hide his surprise, he was frequently embarrassed by his lack of a social life. Seemingly nonchalant,

he went over to his bag and dug around inside it until his fingers closed around the little vibrating object. He looked at the screen, and was suddenly aware of his heart

beating. He re-read the message, a smile starting to form on his lips. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and, a second after that, the tap of his

employer's cane. Of course, he had to go get himself more coffee right at this moment. Without even thinking about it, the young doctor deleted the message. "Something

you don't want me to see, Chase?" House asked. The Australian scoffed. "Yeah. Which applies to just about everything, so..." The older doctor raised an eyebrow. "Cocky

suddenly. Good news?" Chase pushed past him, heading to the kitchen again. "Yes." He couldn't help but smile a little. Suddenly, the day seemed much better.


	7. Chapter 7

A little while later, House had finally had an idea, so Chase and Foreman were busy testing samples in the lab. Watching his colleague adjust the centrifuge, Foreman smirked. "You've been grinning like a moron for an hour now. What's up?" The intensivist looked away, smiling quietly. Foreman rolled his eyes. "Come on. You're like a second grader who's got a secret to share." Chase relented. "I've...I've got a date." The neurologist looked at him with something resembling pity. "A date? A date gets you this excited?" he chuckled. "Man, do _you_ need to get a life!"

Back in his office, House was relaxing in his lounge chair, the theme song of "Animaniacs" playing quietly, if – by its very nature – not soothingly. Suddenly, though, the diagnostician was startled by the sound of his team noisily entering the conference room. "I mean – " Foreman was using his most patronizing tone – "Chase will have to _prepare_. You know, with hair like that..." Cameron giggled despite herself, shooting the intensivist an apologizing look at the same time. Chase glared. "Shut up, Foreman." he hissed, pointing at the glass door to House's office. Too late. The diagnostician was already limping towards the group. Chase looked as if he'd just been forced to swallow a wedge of lemon. He sat down at the table, keeping his gaze on Laura's file. House studied him for a couple of seconds. Then, he turned around. "Cameron!" The brunette looked up at him. "Yes?" "Tell me what Chase is doing tonight." Cameron bit her lip. "I think you should ask him yourself..." she suggested quietly. "Riiiight..." House said, facing his youngest employee again. "Chase. Tell me." The Australian tore his eyes away from the file reluctantly. If he disobeyed now, House would be on Cameron's case, blaming her since she refused to ask in the first place. "I have a date." House smirked. "I knew that. I want a name, time, and place." Chase rolled his eyes. "So you can show me up. No way." The threatening glare he got in return was enough to make the intensivist gulp. "Actually, I think you should make way. Because it's entirely possible we'll be much too busy for you to leave tonight. Meaning...tell me, or there won't be a date." Chase didn't look his boss in the eye, but he did force himself to scoff – quietly. "Cuddy won't let you single me out again, House." "Oh, I won't," The older doctor went over to the coffee machine, "I'll just make all of you stay. Sounds fair, doesn't it?" Cameron and Foreman looked at Chase, Foreman angrily and Cameron pleadingly. The blond doctor reminded himself that working for House, the most important thing was to know when you'd lost the battle. He sighed. "Janie. At eight. Trattoria." House looked like a satisfied cat. "Thank you, Dr. Chase. Maybe we can get back to the patient now?" Foreman jumped in, he had been waiting. "She said she's been having heartburn for a while now, rigth? What about Budd-Chiari's?" "No ascites..." Cameron disagreed, and House rested his chin on his cane. "Come on then. Add liver failure to everything else, what do we get?" Chase shrugged. "Something metabolic? Wilson's? Hallucinations would fit." Foreman scoffed. "Her billirubin level was normal, remember?" The group was silent for a minute. Finally, House looked up. "Go run it again. Chase, take another history, Foreman and Cameron, you search her place. We missed something." The ducklings were unconvinced. "Like what?" Foreman asked, annoyed, and House glared. "If I knew, it wouldn't be relevant. But maybe you'll find out as soon as you _leave_ and _do your job_!" Recognising defeat, the team filed out without another word. House turned to the board and stared at the list of symptoms.

"You're going to make her better, right?" Chase was standing in front of Laura's room, holding her son's hand. He had gone through all the standard questions again, but Laura had stuck to her original answers. Since she seemed completely tired out, the young doctor had left her to rest for a while, when Nicky had pounced on him. "I hope so, Nicky." the intensivist said, patting the little boy on the head to make up for the only marginally reassuring answer. Nicky frowned. "My mom said she's sad because she doesn't like hospitals. I tried to make her better at home, I brought her my bear and cookies and a blanket. But she didn't want cookies. When I'm sick, she tells me I have to eat a little bit to stay strong for getting better, so maybe that's why she's so tired?" "Well, yes, the body needs energy to get better." Chase agreed, and Nicky nodded. "I brought her the pills, but they don't work anymore, she said..." The Australian faced the boy. "Pills? What pills, Nicky?" The kid shrugged, "I don't know, they made her better and then they didn't..." Chase waved a nurse over. "Will you keep an eye on him for a minute?" he asked, and she nodded. "Sure. Come on, Nicky, want to keep me company in the nurse's lounge again? Another hot chocolate?" Nicky smiled. "Yeah. But cold milk, ok? 'Cause I'm hot." The nurse laughed. "Sure, hot chocolate with cold milk." She tool his hand and the two of them walked off, Nicky waving at Chase happily.

In the patient's room, Chase touched Laura's shoulder gently. "Laura?" he said quietly, "I need you to wake up again, Laura..." Slowly, her eyes opened. "Ah, Dr. Chase..." her voice was hoarse, and she sat up slightly with an obvious effort. "What is it?" Chase filled a plastic cup from the nightsstand and passed it to her. "Sorry for disturbing you again..but I just spoke to Nicky, and he was telling me about pills you were taking?" Laura nodded. "Oh, that. Yes, I took some Nexium, but that was days ago, and it didn't help. Sorry, I guess I forgot all about it." Chase nodded, trying not to groan out loud. Another patient not mentioning important details, House would love that. "Okay then. I'll let you get some rest." Laura nodded, relieved. "Thanks." she mumbled, letting her eyes close again.

Chase went straight back to the diagnostic department, but House was nowhere to be found. He paged him and went over to the table, poring over the chart again. Shortly after, House entered, followed by the other team members. "She was taking Nexium for her heartburn." Chase announced in response to House's inquiring look. House just looked at him. "Right. If only I'd sent someone to get a patient's history. Oh wait, I did, didn't I? Cameron, Chase? Care to explain?" "We asked her about medications!" Cameron protested, and Chase nodded. "Yeah, of course we did. She told me she'd forgotten about mentioning it." House didn't look convinced. "Or you screwed up. But stick to your story, works better if we get sued. So. Nexium. Side effects?" He started scribbling on the board. Chase spoke up, "She could be allergic to esomeprazole. Rash would fit, diarrhoea and auditory hallucinations." "What about the weight loss?" Cameron cut in. "Heartburn. She'll have been eating less..." Foreman responded. Chase nodded. "That makes sense, Nicky said she was hardly eating." House raised his eyebrows at his intensivist. "Does your precious Janie know about her competition?" he asked. Chase snorted. "Right. Want us to treat the patient now?" House smiled. "Sure. Do a scratch test to confirm. Also, maybe we should explain the liver failure. Liver's important, isn't it?"


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you, assioma. Right now, anything's possible, I'm not sure where the story's going. Your version would make verlan happy, I bet. ;)

* * *

><p>The team was silent, trying to think of any cause of liver failure that could possibly have been overlooked. When none of them said<p>

anything, their boss became impatient.

"Come on. Talk!" The team glanced at each other helplessly. House whacked his cane against the table leg, making them flinch. "Give me

something!" Silence. The

diagnostician glared. "Fine. Get out." Foreman frowned. "What's that gonna accomplish, we - " "Out!" House managed to say that one

word with so much persuasive

authority the ducklings were out the door in seconds – needless to say, the cane he had been waving around did its part in intimidating

them.

* * *

><p>Three hours passed until the team was paged back to the diagnostic's lounge. They slunk inside cautiously, fully expecting another<p>

outburst. However, House was sitting

calmly at his desk, a small smile on his face. The ducklings shared looks of relief. Epiphany. At last. House looked up at at them as they

entered. "She's not as clever as

she thinks." He limped out the door, calling back to his team, "Treat her!" Shaking her head, Cameron went off to do so, leaving her

colleagues to clean up the mess of

charts and coffee cups.

* * *

><p>House appeared back in the conference room about half an hour later. "Scratch test was positive." Chase informed him, and the<p>

diagnostician raised an eyebrow. "I tell

you to confirm diagnoses so Cuddy sleeps better at night. It's not for my benefit – I know when I'm right." Chase turned to his colleagues

and voiced what they were all

thinking, "Except when you're not." he muttered. He had practically whispered the comment, as well as concealing it by scraping back a

chair, but House's ears were

sharp. "Excuse me?" he said, rounding on the young doctor. The intensivist bit his lip. "Sorry..." House glared, but decided to let it go for

now. After all, he had some

wisdom to impart. "Don't you want to know how I saved poor Linda's life?" Cameron sighed. "Laura. She's called Laura, House." "Who

cares? If it weren't for me, her

name would be followed by a 'deceased' now. But, in a very common stroke of genius - " he looked around at his employees and was

satisfied to find they looked suitably

put-out and didn't even so much as smirk - "in a stroke of genius, I got _Laura_ to confess she'd been chugging skullcap. Herbal remedy for

her heartburn. Unfortunately, in

combination with the meds we gave her..." Foreman nodded, "So that's why her liver's shot." House turned away from him. "Yup. Go put

her on the list for a transplant."

He walked back to his office, whistling the theme tune of "Scrubs".

* * *

><p>Foreman went off to notify the transplant committee, while Cameron started to do the charting. Chase stood in the conference room for a<p>

few seconds, then walked over

to House's office. Gingerly, he knocked against the glass wall before entering. House looked up from a comic book he was reading, clearly

pissed at being interrupted.

"Um...I just wanted to know if you'd be okay with me leaving a little early today. It's nearly eight..." House had taken up his reading again

halfway through the first

sentence. When Chase fell silent, he simply said, "Nope." The Australian frowned. "No?" "No. You're staying. Get out." Chase looked

miserable, but didn't protest. Sighing,

he left the room. Cameron shot him a sympathetic look from the table. "He's not letting you leave?" she guessed, and the intensivist

nodded. "She'll understand." His

colleague reassured him. Chase shrugged, digging out his cellphone. "Hopefully. I don't know her that well, it's only our third date."

Suddenly, the two of them were

startled by a loud whistling. "Chase, get in here." House called.

"What's up?" the young doctor asked, having arrived at House's desk. "Gimme!" House ordered, flexing his fingers. Chase looked at his

hand, and noticed he was still

holding his mobile. "I'm not giving you my cellphone!" he said, shocked. The diagnostician smirked. "You are aware that during work hours,

private calls are not

permitted?" His employee snorted. "You make private calls all the time, and you've never stopped us from doing so as well. Hell, you enjoy

it." "Rules are not made to be

broken, Robert." House had adopted the voice of a prim British grandmother, and Chase thought this was probably the most horrible thing

happening to him today.

Though it was a very close call, which was depressing in itself. And on top of it all, House actually seemed to be serious. "Chase, I'm acting

as any other employer would."

"I know, but that's it. You don't do that. You don't care about the guidelines, you make up this weird universe and we have to live with it."

"So, now the universe is

changing. Give." The intensivist didn't move, stress clearly visible on his face. Finally, he lifted his hand and slowly, hesitantly let his mobile

fall into House's palm, taking

care to switch it off first. "Thank you." the diagnostician said politely, and Chase stormed out.

"Can I borrow your mobile for a sec, Cameron?" he asked as soon as he's left House's office. His colleague hesitated, and looked at the

Australian, biting her lip. "Are

you...sure?" she asked. "Of course I'm sure." Chase answered, puzzled, but understood when he heard a sound right behind him. House

was standing in the doorway to

his office, a smirk on his face. "What did I tell you about making private calls during work hours?" The intensivist sighed. "Not to." "Exactly.

Cameron, you can leave. Help

Foreman or something. Chase, I thought I informed you of the fact that all files coming our way in the next couple of weeks need your

expertise?" Chase actually glared

this time, but House returned his gaze, wide-eyed. Casting a look at her colleague, Cameron left, and the Australian took that as cue to

sit down and get to work. He

rubbed his tired eyes and stared down at the charts, knowing that if he kept looking at his boss, he'd say something he'd regret.

Miserably, he started reading.

* * *

><p>"He's making him do the charting to stop him from calling Janie." Foreman groaned. "Great. Chase will be sulking for weeks, and that'll<p>

affect all of us. Why does he always

need drama?" Cameron shrugged. "Wish I knew. Do you think we should talk to him?" "Who, House? Yeah, right. He'll either mock you for

caring or punish you as well for

trying to spoil his fun. Don't." Cameron had her jaw set stubbornly, and Foreman held up a hand to stop her from walking. "Listen. I know

you want to help Chase, but

talking to House doesn't make sense." Cameron stood in the hallway, chart clutched in her hand. Suddenly, a smile began to turn up the

corners of her mouth. "I know

what we can do, though..."

* * *

><p>Shortly after, Cameron and Foreman arrived in front of a small Italian restaurant. "Trattoria" was written in white paint on the brick wall,<p>

and a warm glow of light spilled

onto the street through the windows, partly shrouded by vine climbing up along the ledges. They slipped inside and looked around. The

restaurant was almost full despite

of it being a week night. At a table set for two, Cameron spotted a young woman sitting by herself. She pointed, and Foreman nodded.

Together they weaved through the

tables. The woman looked up, and Cameron studied her. "Janie?" she asked. "Um...yes?" Cameron smiled, sitting down. "You're waiting

for Robert Chase, aren't you?"

Janie nodded, her dark hair falling into her face. "Yeah, but – how do you know? Who are you?" Foreman offered his hand. "Eric Foreman.

This is Allison Cameron, we're

colleagues of Robert's."

* * *

><p>Nine o'clock had passed, and Chase was still sitting at the table in the conference room. He desperately wanted to phone Janie, but<p>

House hadn't left his office and would

definitely be listening for any signs of his duckling leaving the room. "Hey!" Chase turned around at the sound of Wilson's voice. "Hi."

"Seen House?" the oncologist asked.

His colleague nodded, gesturing at his employer's office. "Thanks." Wilson entered and went up to House, finding him asleep in his chair.

"House!" "Ungh..." "House, come

on. Wake up. You said you'd give me a ride." "Take you for a ride? Sure thing, babe!" Wilson shook his head. His friend hadn't even

opened his eyes yet, but trust him to

make inappropriate comments." "Funny, but I'm serious. You ready to go?" Finally, House sat up. "Uh, no. Got a patient." "Yeah..." Wilson

agreed, adding, "...a cured

patient, I believe?" House shrugged. "Need to stay to monitor my lackeys." "Bull. Come on." "What's in it for me?" Wilson sighed.

"Lasagne?" House grinned. "Score! I'll let

them know Daddy's going out!" House limped to the conference room. Seeing Chase's neck bent over the stack of files, he actually felt

something like pity. The kid really

had been looking forward to this date...making a disgusted face at himself, House pushed the thought out of his head. "Chase!" The

young doctor looked up. "Yeah?"

"You can leave..." Chase's eyes lit up - "...when you're done." He slumped. Nearly out the door, House turned around. "Where are your

brother and sister?" All he got was

a blank stare. "Okay. If you see them, tell them they can leave. You finished my clinic duty, didn't you?" The Australian grimaced. Crap,

he'd completely forgotten about

that. "Actually...there's still half an hour left." Chase gazed at his boss apprehensively. "Finish it." House said sharply, and the intensivist

nodded, turning his attention to

the paperwork again. "Now." Chase sighed, but got up. Grabbing his lab coat, he hurried downstairs, leaving Wilson and his boss to

gather their belongings from their

respective offices.

* * *

><p>"Chase! Hey!" The Australian turned around. Foreman. Cameron – and...he could hardly believe his eyes. Janie. "What are you doing<p>

here?" Chase asked happily, striding

up to the group and greeting Janie with a kiss. Cameron smiled. "We happened to run into her. Right, Foreman?" Her colleague grinned.

"Sure. And now, we're extremely

busy, so we'll leave you to it." Together, the two walked off. Chase beamed at Janie and was surprised to be pulled into a hug. "I'm

meant to be working, Janie." the

intensivist protested, but the woman standing in front of him took no notice. "We'll be quick!" she grinned mischievously, grabbing his

hand. Chase laughed, before finally

letting himself be pulled away. Suddenly, something whizzed past his ear. He looked up and then winced in pain as another tennis ball

came flying, connecting with his

head. House's voice drifted over from the other end of the hallway. "Sex is for after work, Chase. Whatever would you boss say? Come

on!" The youngest duckling looked

at Janie with an apologetic face and started to follow the department head, who was walking away swiftly. But House turned around

suddenly. "Also, fetch!" he called,

pointing at his beloved tennis balls on the far end of the corridor before limping on. Chase stared at the retreating figure. He closed his

eyes and then turned around, recognising defeat. While Janie just shook her head incredulously, the blonde doctor strode down the hall

and gathered up the tennis balls, before jogging after his boss.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey everyone, I'm so sorry – I had finished writing Chapter 8 a week ago, just forget to upload it. But to make up, Chapter 9 is done now,

as well, though slightly shorter I think... Sorry for the weird layout of chapter 8, I still get confused by doc manager. My stories always get

bunched up, I have to insert lines manually and that makes everything look weird.

* * *

><p>Janie stood staring after the retreating doctor, words being carried back to her. "Janie, sorry. I'm so glad you came, but I have to...I'll<p>

meet you in the lobby, soon as I can, 'k?" Before she had a chance to answer, Chase turned a corner and was out of sight. Several

seconds passed before Janie pulled herself together, slowly making her way to the lobby.

* * *

><p>"That was <em>rude<em>." Chase complained, when he had caught up with his boss. He was panting slightly. House scoffed. "Not really. You're

sensitive because you wanna hit that." he snatched the balls out of his employee's hands. Chase shot him an indignant look. "I do not

want to...I don't want to sleep with her. I like her, I want to get to know her!" House smirked. "Sure. Go with the G-rated version." The

intensivist shook his head, irritated. "Whatever. What do you even want?" "I want to know why I'm seeing you making out in the hospital

– after I gave you something to do, nonetheless." Chase grimaced. Not bothering to point out the fact that what he had been doing could

hardly be classified as "making out", the duckling started rambling: "I, well, Janie came here, and I was greeting her, but I was on the way

to the clinic. To...to do your hours. So I'll just go do them now, if that's okay?" He glanced up at his boss and sighed. "I guess not." House

confirmed with a short nod. "That's right. I want her out of the hospital. Now. And I want _you_ in my office in five minutes." Chase looked

scared now. "But I can't send her away. And anyway...the Lasagne?" It was a feeble attempt. And a futile one. House smiled dangerously.

"Don't worry. Wilson just got called in for a consult. And about your friend, let me put it in terms you understand: She stays here, and I will

make the next month match the last days. Like, equally miserable." The Australian nodded, eyes wide. Without a word, he veered off to

the right, heading back to the clinic. "Hey!" House barked. Chase flinched, turning around immediately. He knew that tone. "Did I say you

could leave?" A mute shake of the head, and the intensivist came to a stop, facing his employer. The diagnostician glared. "Thank you. Get

me something sweet while you're downstairs." Chase nodded, waiting. "Go."

* * *

><p>At the lobby, Chase felt a pang of guilt as soon as he saw Janie. Slowly, he walked up to her. "Hey, there you are!" she grinned happily,<p>

"Ready to go?" "Actually...I have to work, I think." Janie's smile vanished. She didn't answer right away, but finally said, "I understand."

Grabbing her bag, she turned to go, but the intensivist stopped her. "I'm so sorry. Seriously, I wish I could leave. House is...something

special. If I leave now, there is no way I'm keeping my job." Janie looked at him, shook her head, and started to walk off briskly. "Fine. I'll

see you." Chase stared after her miserably. "Bye..."

In his office, House was busy drawing tiny moustaches on all respectable-looking heads he could find in Foreman's medical magazine. He

added amusing little details to each page – a spotted tie, giant clown shoes, a dachshund...when Chase came in, dropping a chocolate

bar on his employer's desk, the diagnostician didn't even look up.

* * *

><p>"House?" the Australian asked after being ignored for a full two minutes. House just held up a single finger. "Busy." Chase rolled his eyes,<p>

slumping against the wall. When his boss finally looked up, the younger doctor seemed to be in a different world, gazing into space.

House picked up the magazine and slammed it down on the table, enjoying Chase's eyes first sporting a panicked look and then blinking

in confusion. "Sooo..." the diagnostician began, "You got anything to say in your defence?" Shrugging, the Australian shook his head. He

had plenty to say, but nothing that would placate his boss. "Where's your girl?" "She's not my girl. And she left. Thanks to you." "You're

welcome. Now that you're free tonight, you don't mind taking care of Mrs. Chelton's post-op notes, do you?" Chase didn't answer, just

kept staring at the floor. "Hey!" The intensivist's eyes snapped back to his employer, confirming with a nod. House smirked. "Get to work."

* * *

><p>An hour later, Chase was filling in the last of the forms concerning the team's previous patient, Eleanor Charlton. He had finished House's<p>

clinic duty and, after stapling together the loose pages, started to gather his stuff. Grabbing his mobile from the conference table, he

sighed, glancing at the display. No messages.

* * *

><p>At Wilson's apartment, meanwhile, House was watching his friend chop up mushrooms. "Are you almost done?" he whined impatiently.<p>

Wilson shot him a look. "Shut up. Anyone ever tell you it's bad luck to annoy the chef?" "You're making that up. And you are, like, the

worst chef in history." "What the hell? Didn't you refer to my pancakes as 'little slices of heaven' on several occasions?" House rolled his

eyes. "Pancakes, fine, I'll give you that. Those are awesome. But everybody knows with 'shrooms you're supposed to first cut off the

stems and then slice them up. You're doing it wrong." Wilson glared, but the diagnostician just pointed at the cutting board. "Chop, chop."

"I hate you." House grinned. "Wilsoooon?" "What?" "Can we have pancakes tomorrow?"

* * *

><p>The following morning, House woke up on Wilson's couch. By the time the lasagne had been baked and eaten, he had decided to spend<p>

the night as it was past midnight anyway. Unfortunately, Wilson's couch was far from comfortable. Slowly, the diagnostician sat up,

massaging his leg and reaching for his cane. Wilson found him half an hour later, still sitting. "Leg bothering you?" he asked, trying to

keep his tone light. He knew from experience that House was prone to shutting down if people cared too much. The older doctor just

nodded, and Wilson sighed. "Fine. Pancakes then." House grinned and got up, limping towards the bathroom quite happily. "Hey!" Wilson

glared, annoyed at having been played. His friend smirked and said, "Relax. The grief of no pancakes would definitely have made my leg

hurt _eventually_, so technically, I was only reversing cause and effect." He ducked, dodging the kitchen towel Wilson had chucked at him

and disappeared, trying not to laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

_Since it seems as if everybody'd like this story to go into a House/Chase direction, I'm thinking of merging it with another story I'm writing, "The Trip". I'm warming to the idea :)_

_verlan, you aren't evil. And even if you are, niceness is a genetic defect, isn't it? ;)_

_Thanks, assioma, as long as people are reading I'll update, promise._

* * *

><p>Wilson finally managed to lure his friend out of the house at half past seven, incredibly early for the diagnostician. The promise of a lunch<p>

box filled with left-over pancakes proved to be a convincing argument. Especially combined with the threat of said pancakes being

discarded in the case of non-compliance. 

In the car, Wilson decided to take advantage of the fact that it would be impossible for the older doctor to get away. "So...will you stop

torturing Chase anytime soon, or are you waiting for him to break down and weep?" House scoffed. "Knowing Chase, he probably bawls

his eyes out every day that I don't treat him like the son I never wanted." Seeing the oncologist's disapproving look, he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not torturing him. He was snogging some chick during work hours, d'you want me to applaud his audacity?" "It's not that. Last night

you were protecting him, Cuddy would definitely not have liked seeing him with the girl... I'm talking about all of last week. You're

constantly berating him. You hardly ever let him have a full night's sleep and during the day, you work him so hard every time I see him he

looks about ready to drop down. You have him doing your paperwork and clinic duty, and now you're intent on ruining whatever he has

with that Janie. Did I miss anything?" House shrugged. "Made him organise the kitchen cabinets." Wilson groaned. "House. Come on.

What are you trying to prove?" "I'm not proving anything. Chase is distracted and when I call him on it, he gets sassy as hell. I don't care

about pretty boy's feelings, I need him to work." "Do you honestly think that making him miserable will accomplish that?" "Uh...yeah. See,

Jimmy, people don't like to be treated like crap. So if they can do anything about it, they will." Wilson just shook his head, giving up. "Fine.

Do what you think is right." House grinned. "Don't I always?"

* * *

><p>At the hospital, House strode into his office and was surprised to find Chase sitting alone in the conference room, a stack of medical<p>

journals beside him. The young doctor had his back turned to the door, scribbling with his hair falling into his face. He turned around at the

sound of House's cane, obviously shocked to see him that early. Entering, House threw his backpack on one of the chairs, making quite a

few of the magazines slide off the table. Chase looked at him exasperatedly. "House." "Chase. Good morning. Sorry about that." He

smirked, watching his intensivist dive under the table. When the blond doctor appeared again, he was clutching several journals. "How

come you're here so early?" "Came in with Wilson. He's a pain. What are you doing?" Chase looked at him, bewildered. "Cataloguing your

magazines?" House raised his eyebrows. "Didn't I ask you to do that like, weeks ago?" "Two days. And you sent me home before I was

done, so I'd be able to fetch Wilson in the morning, remember?" House shrugged, going over to the kitchen cabinets to root around for

something sweet to eat with his pancakes. "So why do it now?" Chase had stopped writing and was watching his boss. "I was planning

on being finished before you came in. I didn't want to get yelled at first thing in the morning." House scoffed. "I don't care about those

journals. And in the morning, I have different things on my mind. Like – _yes_!" He grabbed a bottle of maple syrup from the back of a shelf.

Chase narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "So, d'you even need me to finish this?" "No. But do it anyway. Coffee fresh?" Chase shook his

head, confused. "Uh, no. I had some at home, and the others aren't here yet." House was busy cleaning the whiteboard, and without

turning around, jerked his thumb at the coffee machine. "Make some." Chase didn't get up right away, so House levelled the laser of his

blue eyes at him. "No. Make it yourself." The diagnostician smiled slowly. "Wow, I'm impressed. So it actually is physically possible for you

to disagree with people in charge. Now drop the act. Coffee." Chase stopped pretending to study the magazine in front of him and stared

defiantly at his boss. "No. I'm done jumping to your orders." "Done jumping to my orders? If that's the case, you may be done working for

me altogether." Chase tried to hold his gaze, but gave up after a few seconds. "I don't care about your little drama. I expect you to be in

my office ten minutes from now, carrying either a cup of coffee or your letter of resignation. Got it?" The fellow nodded mutely, going pale.

House shot him one last glare, letting him know he was entirely serious, before retiring to his office.

* * *

><p>Chase sat at the table, staring after his boss. He sighed, trying to calm himself. He would find another job. It wouldn't be pleasant, but<p>

sometimes, for true love...he stopped that line of thought. True love? Who was he kidding? Chase started massaging his temples, when

he felt something vibrate in his jacket. Excitedly, he pulled out his mobile. A message from Janie. "No guarantees – but if there is a good

explanation for what happened yesterday, I'd be willing to reconsider. Want to meet up for lunch?" Chase beamed. Maybe things were

going to be fine after all.

When Cameron walked into the diagnostic's lounge a couple of minutes later, the coffee machine was gurgling. "Hey." She greeted her

colleague with a friendly smile. "So?" Chase looked up at her. "So what?" "So, how'd it go with Janie?" Chase smiled tiredly. He glanced at

the door to House's office and pointed to the corridor, asking Cameron to follow him outside.

"What's up?" she asked, as soon as they were safely out of earshot. Chase sighed. "It didn't go well. House scared her off." Cameron

cocked her head questioningly. "He made me send her away and then had me write up Charlton's report." Cameron shook her head,

confused. "Charlton? Why Charlton? I mean, I did that weeks ago." Chase balled his fists. "And you showed House?" "He told me to do it.

He even signed it. Chase, I'm so sorry about Janie!" The intensivist shrugged resignedly, and Cameron looked at him in pity. "House is

such a jerk." Her colleague nodded. "Well, if anything, he's worse today. Keep a safe distance." Cameron smiled wrily, patting Chase on

the back. "Come on."

* * *

><p>House had smiled when he heard the coffee machine being turned on, and his smile got even bigger when he heard Chase rummaging<p>

around for a mug. He had to force himself to appear sufficiently grim when his youngest subordinate finally entered. The Australian set the

steaming mug down on House's desk, along with six sheets of tidily written lines. Each page was divided into columns headed with terms

such as "Issue No." and "Editor". House raised his eyebrows, and Chase met his gaze. "I'm sorry." His employer scoffed. "Decided to toe

the line now that your job's on the same?" Chase didn't answer, just looked at his boss. House still looked mad. He made a shooing

gesture with his hand. "Get out of here."

It was shortly after eight when Foreman walked in, surprised to see House's backpack. "He already in?" he asked, and his colleagues

nodded. "Wilson's car is still in the shop, I think." Cameron mused. Foreman nodded, going over to the kitchenette to pour himself a cup of

coffee.

* * *

><p>The team spent the following hour getting bored. Cameron had taken care of House's mail, and the guys had been staring into space,<p>

each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, a quarter past nine, House left his nintendo and entered the conference room noisily. Chase

grimaced, preparing himself for payback. But House didn't seem to be looking for that – not right now, at least. All he said was, "Find me a

case." The ducklings looked at one another, then got up. When they had gathered their lab coats, however, House stopped them, asking,

"Who wants my clinic duty today?" Chase bit his lip. He would end up doing it, of course, but volunteering would ruin House's fun. Which

was not a wise move. Therefore, he kept quiet. House pretended to think. "Chase." "Yeah?" "I'd like you to do my clinic hours for me

today. I'm not ordering you, of course. Just – do you think you could find the time? Or would you rather spend every weekend until March

looking up all the obscure diseases I can think of?" Chase swallowed, not doubting this was a very real threat. "No, I'll do your hours."

House stared at him coldly. Before he could say anything else, though, the door opened.

"Basic Law for doctors." Cuddy announced. House frowned. "Um...yeah?" "I need you to go. It's a new requirement for high risk hospitals

to have all department heads attend once every three years..." seeing House's look of contempt, she exhaled slowly, calming herself.

"Come on. It's just one weekend." "No way." Cuddy smiled, but there was a hint of desperation in it. "I'll let you off clinic duty." she

taunted. "Fine. Six months, and we have a deal." "Um. I was thinking, like, three weeks. Come on, you know that's a good offer." House

scoffed, but nodded. "Just because it's you, Cuddlebuns!" Rolling her eyes, his boss fled. "It starts on the fifteenth!" She called back over

her shoulder. House looked at his team. "Got any plans on the fifteenth?" Cameron dug out her calendar. "Cuddy never said we had to go

as well..." Foreman whined, not being as eager-to-please. House turned to him with wide-open eyes. "As well? You don't think _I'm_ going,

do you? And no, Cuddy didn't say you had to go. I'm saying so." Chase glared at him behind his back. "Figures." he mumbled. "But – but

Cuddy explicitly told you to go." Cameron reminded worriedly. "Which is why I'm having you guys go. You can share all your brand new

knowledge with me afterwards." Chase shared an incredulous look with Foreman. "House, I've been to four of these things already,

they're a requirement back home. And I don't get out of doing clinic hours for this, do I?" His boss turned on him. "Au contraire. Think

about it: Who's been doing my clinic hours?" The Australian looked away, and House smiled sweetly. "So...when I haven't got any...you do

the maths. Now get." Shooting one last angry glance, Chase forced himself to leave with his colleagues, Cameron and Foreman sharing a

bewildered look.


	11. Chapter 11

_So, everyone, one more chapter. I actually have the next one finished, remind me to upload it so you won't have to wait as long as last time - need to catch a train now! As always, I'm open to suggestions on what you'd like to happen, I may need some prompting soo anyway as I'm not too sure about everything yet. Thanks for the reviews and all the Author Alerts, people, keep them coming please! :)_

* * *

><p>Outside, Foreman shook his head. "Did you hide his Vicodin or something?" he asked his colleague. Chase shot him an irritated glance. "All<p>

I did was not jump up the _second_ he asked me to make coffee. Told him to do it himself." Foreman grinned. "Well, I'm not surprised that

didn't go down well." Chase snorted. "Thanks, helpful." Cameron sighed. "Guys, come on. You know House. Let's try to find him a case,

maybe that will make him calm down."

* * *

><p>Four hours of noise and demanding patients later, Chase was finally free to go to lunch. House hadn't paged him back to the office, so it<p>

seemed as if his co-workers hadn't had any luck finding a case either. The young man made his way to the cafeteria apprehensively. He

had arranged to meet Janie there and was not looking forward to explaining himself.

* * *

><p>Janie meanwhile was sitting quietly, waiting for Chase to join her at a table near the back. People where milling around, but she seemed<p>

lost in thought, not paying attention to any of them. When the intensivist came up to her, she nodded, unsmiling. Inwardly, Chase sighed.

This wasn't going to be easy. Nervously, he lifted a hand in greeting. "Hi." She blinked once, indicating that she'd heard him. "Um...thanks

for meeting up with me. Can I get you anything?" She shook her head, "I'm fine." The Australian ran his tongue across his lower lip and,

because he couldn't think of anything else to do, finally sat down. He studied the tabletop and sighed. "Janie...listen. House – he's not

your typical boss. I'm really sorry I made you wait, but I need you to understand that there honestly wasn't anything I could have done

about it." Janie scoffed. "So how is this gonna work, you'll ignore me every time you get the chance to earn a gold star from your boss?"

Chase snorted. "Yeah...he doesn't exactly work with gold stars." "Whatever. You could have called, at least." "I know. I tried. House

actually took away my phone, and – " Janie was getting angry. "Robert, will you stop blaming your boss? Unless he tied you down and

locked the door, how could he have stopped you from coming or at least telling me you weren't? This is ridiculous." Chase shrugged

helplessly. "The fellowship here is the most prestigious in the country, that's not something you just give up." "You do know you can't get

fired for not working overtime whenever it suits your supervisor, though? I mean, if you guys had had a patient, sure – but Foreman

and...what's her name, Cameron?" Chase confirmed with a look. "Yeah, they said House was making you do busy-work. Hell, they even

left themselves." The intensivist ran a hand through his hair. "One of House's previous fellows got canned for whistling a tune he was

annoyed by. That's how it works with him. I don't know why, but he constantly gets away with stuff like that. And...Cameron and Foreman

left because House was screwing with me, he told them to leave. He's got me doing all the files at the moment." "Well, maybe you need to

learn not to let him walk all over you. Foreman said he wouldn't put up with how you're being treated." Chase mentally made a note to

get back at his colleague somehow. Way to make him look weak. "Foreman doesn't get it. House hired us all for a different reason. He's

got Foreman to stand up to him on medical stuff. Cameron's his conscience, I guess. And me...I'm supposed to do what he says. I didn't

realise at first, but whenever I stand up to him, he...well, he lets me know that's _not_ what he wants. I tried a few times, but he always

made me regret it." Chase bit his lip, thinking of countless hours of work House had assigned him as punishment and incentive to keep his

mouth shut in the future. "I think he needs to feel assured there's someone who will be his substitute should he be unavailable, he wants

me to do what he would have done." "He wants a flunky." Chase sighed. "Yeah, actually. That's a big part of it, he does like ordering me

around. But I don't really mind. Cameron and Foreman do what he says as well, he just doesn't let them feel it as much. But if I'm gonna

be following instructions, they may as well be blunt. Who cares?" Janie didn't answer right away, studying the doctor. At last, she said,

"You've got some issues to work through, I think. But...you do seem to have tried contacting me, and I suppose it's possible you're being

measured against different standards than your colleagues..." Chase looked at her expectantly. "Does that mean we can – reschedule?"

Janie sighed. "I guess." She smiled, and Chase grinned, relieved. Silently, he reached across the table and stroked her hand.

* * *

><p>Chase and Janie had been talking contentedly, both happy to grant themselves another chance. When an hour was up, though, the<p>

intensivist started fidgeting and glanced at his pager frequently. Which was noticed. "You need to go, don't you?" Chase shrugged, intent

on not seeming too worried. But Janie saw through that. "It's fine, I understand. And I have to get back to work, too. Come on, you can

walk me out." She slipped her hand into his, and the two ambled out of the cafeteria. Turning the corner, though, Chase suddenly went

white as a sheet. He grabbed Janie harder and briskly started walking in the direction they had come, practically pulling her with him.

"Hey!" she protested, and Chase quickly shushed her. "It's House!" Before they had managed to get lost in the crowds, though, Chase

felt a dull pain in his back. Caused by the tip of a cane. "Wombat." The Australian grimaced, turning around. He let go of Janie and quickly

said, "House, this is Janie. She needs to go, I think." House just raised an eyebrow, watching his employee desperately try to

communicate that his little friend should leave right now. "I'll call you!" Chase promised. Finally, to his relief, Janie gave in. She touched the

intensivist lightly on the shoulder before walking away.

* * *

><p>Chase stood still, trying not to look at his boss. "Ssst!" House hissed, and the Australian reluctantly gazed up at him. "Come on." The<p>

department head walked off, his employee following nervously. House not mocking right away was never a good sign, he had to be

planning something. Before Chase could dwell on that, though, Cuddy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. She planted herself in front of

House, making him skid to a stop. The diagnostician rolled his eyes. "What _now_?" Cuddy glared. "You seem to have been planning not to

attend the law event." House turned to his employee, a murderous look on his face which made Chase back away. "Relax," Cuddy

admonished, "...it wasn't him. None of your other underlings, either, so don't start torturing them. Wilson told me. And _you_ are going."

House narrowed his eyes like a petulant child. He waved his hand in the general direction of his duckling. "Get lost." he ordered. Chase

was happy to comply, hurrying off back towards the clinic, but he never got there. "My office." he heard House call after him instead.

Sighing, the intensivist made his way to the elevators.


	12. Chapter 12

_Everyone - THANK YOU SO MUCH for the prompts! The story's been shaping in my head ever since I read those. Also, good thing you reminded me to upload, I really didn't think of it before reading your reviews...read on to finally find out about that law event!_

* * *

><p>Having arrived, Chase saw his colleagues going through files at the conference table. "Hey." he greeted them, "What are you doing?"<p>

"Cuddy dropped these off...said we should try to get House interested. You find anything?" The Australian shook his head. "No. Saw

House, though, Cuddy's dressing him down." Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Again? Why?" "She found out he's not really been planning to

attend that law event, Wilson told her." The neurologist shrugged. "Hm. Good news for us, maybe we won't have to attend after all."

Chase nodded, though Cameron seemed rather disappointed. After hanging up his lab coat, the intensivist made his way over to House's

office. "What are you up to?" asked Cameron. Chase squirmed. "Um...House...caught me having lunch with Janie. Didn't really like that."

His colleagues both shot him pitying glances, which slightly surprised the Australian. He hadn't realised the two had noticed the extent to

which House was torturing his wombat. After giving them a wry smile, he went and sat down in the chair facing his employer's desk.

* * *

><p>Waiting to be reamed out, Chase let his gaze wander around the room. It always fascinated him how much of his stuff House held onto<p>

fiercely, being the rational man he claimed to be. A bit of red writing caught his eye, and the young doctor sighed tiredly. House had

discarded the list of catalogued magazines, it lay crumpled up in the waste-paper basket. Right at the top, too, undoubtedly placed there

to be seen. Chase was balling his fists, controlling his anger, when he heard House arriving next door. "Get in here, Chase!"

* * *

><p>Having assembled his team, House faced the three of them. He looked thoroughly pissed off. "News for you guys. Evil Cuddy has left her<p>

lair. She says scams concerning her law thingy will result in my execution...the horror, right?" Foreman looked at his employer innocently,

"Horrible." House narrowed his eyes. "Watch it. Not cool." He waited until the oldest team-member slightly raised his hands in surrender

before continuing: "_Anyway_, evil Cuddy also said I can take one of you guys. So. Eeenie, meenie, minie – Chase." The Australian groaned.

"Why me?" "'Cause you'll do anything I say. Which means I can make you fetch me drinks...carry my luggage...it's gonna be be awesome!"

Chase clearly didn't think so, but he pressed his lips together, not daring to protest any further. House smirked. "Go do something..." he

ordered, "We're not taking any of those cases, Cuddy saw reason on that, at least. And I'll be leaving early, need the night off to watch

Spongebob with Wilson." Cameron and Chase didn't move, and Foreman simply looked at him incredulously. The department head glared

back. "I said get _out_!"

* * *

><p>A few hours later, the ducklings returned to the office. By now it was five, and they were looking forward to an early night for a change.<p>

Providing House leaving early meant them being able to, as well. Which they were trying to find out. "I wish he'd just stay home tomorrow

and watch Spongebob all day tomorrow..." Chase mumbled, and the others nodded. "Think we can go in?" Cameron asked when they

reached the glass door. Chase bit his lip, and Foreman shrugged. "I don't feel like waiting here until he deigns to go home." The

neurologist steeled himself, and then slowly pulled open the door. House had been packing up his stuff and faced the three young

doctors, waiting. "We were wondering whether we could go home too..." Cameron ventured. House raised an eyebrow. "Did you get on

my nerves today?" They shook their heads in various stages of annoyance. House smirked. "Actually, you did. But not exceedingly – so

yeah, you can go." As his team began to pack up their things, House went over to Wilson's office. "You done?" The oncologist knit his

brows. "House...Cuddy just told me she needs these done by tomorrow..." he gestured at a stack of patient notes. House's face fell, and

Wilson sighed. "Sorry." he said, waiting for the temper tantrum that was sure to come. But when he looked at his friend, a glint was in the

older man's blue eyes. He smiled serenely and turned around, heading for the door. Pulling it open quickly and seeing his youngest

duckling at the end of the corridor, he shouted: "Chase! Get back here!" The blond doctor flinched at the sound of his name and turned

around. Slowly, he began trotting down the hallway, obviously not expecting anything good. When he arrived at the door, House

motioned for him to enter the room. "It's just transcribing, right?" the diagnostician asked his friend. "Yeah..." Wilson confirmed, looking at

Chase suspiciously. "Um...why?" "Chase will do it. Let's go!" Wilson shook his head "Oh no. No, House. He was just going home. I'm not

going to let somebody else do my dirty work." House rolled his eyes. "He's used to it. And he loves transcribing. Right, Chase?" The

Australian glared at his boss. He would do as he was told, but he didn't have to pretend to be happy with it. House narrowed his eyes

and swiftly whacked his employee's ankles with the cane. Chase winced and backed away, but didn't protest. "Come on, Wilson. Inside,

he's happy to help you." Wilson shook his head again, and his friend grew annoyed. "Chase, sit." he ordered. Giving his boss a wide

berth, Chase went to the table and slunk into a chair. "Wilson." the diagnostician said. "If Chase's hurt puppy look stops you from going

with me, I'll make his life hell." Wilson looked from House to Chase, who looked absolutely terrified now. "Chase, tell him that's true."

House commanded. "It is..." Chase mumbled, "Please go."

* * *

><p>Two hours after that, House was sitting on Wilson's couch, munching on cheese puffs and grinning at a nautical sponge's adventures. His<p>

friend was preparing dinner, but thinking of Chase at the same time. He set the water to boil and went to join the diagnostician in front of

the television. "House..." "Commercial. 4 minutes. Zip it." Wilson rolled his eyes, but shut up anyway. As soon as the commercial break

began, though, he nudged his friend. "What?" "I think you should call Chase. He probably thinks he has to finish all those charts by

tomorrow." "So?" "So...he doesn't. I can get some of them done in the morning." House sighed. "I'm thirsty!" he whined. Wilson looked at

him sternly, holding out his phone. "Call, and I'll get you a drink." Scowling, the diagnostician started punching in numbers. Holding the

phone to his ear, he grinned mockingly at the younger doctor. "You really love that Aussie, don't you?" "Sure." Wilson went to fetch drinks,

smiling slightly.

* * *

><p>Chase was startled by the sound of his mobile buzzing. He grabbed it and flipped it open. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, trying to seem<p>

more awake than he felt. "Nothing's_ up_, moron. What, you thought I'd invite you to the movies? I mean, sure, you have great hair, but I

do prefer proper girls." House heard his intensivist snort quietly. "More like _paid_ girls." Granted, it was barely more than a whisper, but not

the thing House was going to let go. Instead, he glared at the phone. "I was gonna send you home, you know? But you just lost that

opportunity." Chase was silent, trying to figure out exactly when he had lost the ability to keep his mouth shut. He knew better than to

get into it with House. Nevertheless, there was no point in begging to be released now. His boss did not go back on his word. True to

form, House spoke again just a couple of seconds later. "Have fun tonight." Smirking, he hung up, leaving Chase to listen to his softly

beeping phone.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thanks, Pallada, and yes, verlan...he was quite shocked his docile duckling's capable of snarking... ;)_

* * *

><p>Wilson returned from the kitchen precariously balancing a tray of plates and drinks. "What did he say?" House eyed the tray longingly and shrugged.<p>

"Nothing. What's he supposed to say, thought he was gonna chit-chat about his evening plans?" Wilson sighed quietly. Had he been talking to Chase,

that's exactly what would have happened. But, of course, House refused to treat his team like actual people who had lives outside of work. Pushing his

friend's employees out of his mind, Wilson finally sat down.

* * *

><p>Shortly after ten, Chase got up from his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. Granted, he'd had a full night's sleep, but the day had started early, too. The<p>

intensivist went out to the corridor, hoping the cooler air might wake him up before the drive home. Walking past the diagnostic's lounge, he eyed the

kitchenette and, deciding that falling asleep at the steering wheel made no sense at all, entered. He turned on the coffee maker and sighed tiredly.

House's Eames chair was beginning to look extremely comfortable...

* * *

><p>Shortly after, the intensivist closed his eyes, snuggling into the warm comfort of the chair he was stretched out on. It smelled like House, which worried<p>

him slightly as it reminded him that it _was_ House's. But then again, all the padded ones were, and he was just _so_ tired...sighing deeply, the young doctor

dozed off.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Wilson arrived at his office to find all the charts on his desk sorted out and lined up neatly. Notes were attached to the different stacks,<p>

and on one was written: "Good morning! Took Cuddy's copies down to administration already..." It was signed with a simple "C." Wilson sat down,

rubbing his temples. House didn't realise what he had in his youngest duckling. The kid tried to please so damn hard, it would probably kill him one day.

Unless...the oncologist frowned. He hadn't heard House telling Chase to leave, he'd just taken his word for it. The oncologist hung up his coat and bag

before making his way over to the department of diagnostic's. It was only shortly after seven, so House wouldn't be in, but some of the ducklings might.

Wilson noticed Chase's messenger bag on the conference table, but the young man was nowhere in sight. The oncologist was about to leave when he

heard a slight rustling from House's office. Raising his eyebrows, he went over to the separating door and pulled it open.

* * *

><p>Wilson smiled when he saw Chase lying on his employer's chair, legs tucked in and one hand buried in his messy hair. He nudged the chair lightly.<p>

"Chase? Hey, Chase!" Suddenly, the Australian flinched, his eyes snapping open. He shrunk backwards, scrambling to straighten up. "Sorry. Sorry, House,

I didn't – " He ran his tongue over his lips in relief when he noticed it was only Wilson. Trying to wake himself up, the intensivist shook his head a couple

of times. The other doctor meanwhile was studying him in concern. "Are you okay?" Chase nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, sure. I was just...confused.

I fell asleep here last night, I suppose." "I guess. Thank you so much for doing those charts. I'm sorry you had to do that, I hope you know I felt horrible

for ruining your night." The intensivist scoffed. "That's fine. I know you had nothing to do with it." "I tried to get House to call you, let you know that I

could get some of those charts done in the morning..." "When? Around seven?" Wilson nodded, and Chase smiled wrily. "He did call. I...said something I

shouldn't have, so he told me he wasn't going to send me home after all." The oncologist frowned. "What did you say?" The Australian looked away,

ashamed. "I...um, I mentioned his affinity to, well, prostitutes." Wilson scoffed. "So? He likes everyone knowing about that." "Yeah. He doesn't like me

making fun of him, though. I don't know why I suddenly can't help being – like that." "House should learn not to expect you to just take everything he

shoves at you. Stand up to him once in a while, it'll do him good." Chase shook his head. "No. He's mad enough as it is. Sorry, but my sense of

self-preservation is too strong for intentionally irritating him." Wilson nodded pensively. "Maybe you're right. D'you want me to try and talk to him again? I

might be able to get him to go easier on you." "No. Thanks, but I don't think that'll help. I just have to stick it out." The older doctor looked at the

Australian worriedly. "Okay...how can I pay you back for last night, then?" Chase was shaking his head again. "Don't. House won't like you feeling as if

you have to pay me back...and you know he'll find out." Wilson nodded slowly. "Well, I'll leave you to it. If there's anything you need..." He waited for the

young doctor to smile in acknowledgement before waving and leaving. He had hated seeing Chase like that. The way he'd shrunk back when he thought

he was being woken by his boss...Wilson sighed, trotting back to his office.

* * *

><p>When House ambled into the hospital at half past nine, the ducklings were assembled in the conference room, waiting for him to approve a case.<p>

"Thirteen-year-old male with neck pain and blurry vision?" Foreman asked. House pouted. "How about a hello first?" Foreman smiled sweetly. "Hello,

House. Good morning." The diagnostician patted his neurologist on the head, ignoring his scowl. "That's more like it. Now, sell it to me." Cameron piped

up, "I'm not sure his vision really is blurry, actually. He seems very much in need of attention, poor little guy." House stared at her. "He's _thirteen_. He's not

little. He's probably running his own brewery from his folks' garage. And having threesomes every night." Cameron snorted. "Your world-view is

depressing." "And yours is rose-coloured. Anyway, cheating kids are fun. Homey, you may go test his blood." Foreman glared, but got up. "Cameron, go

with him." House ordered, before facing his third team-member. "_You_ are staying here."

* * *

><p>House had vanished into his office and Chase was left alone. He stared into space for a couple of minutes, waiting for some kind of instruction or insult,<p>

but none came. Finally, he went over to House's office and knocked gingerly on the glass wall. "Yeah." "Uh, what should I do?" House didn't look up from

his computer. "You're supposed to do what I said." When Chase didn't show any signs of leaving, House faced him. "I don't care, as long as you stay in

the room." The intensivist pressed his lips together. "Is this because of Janie?" "It's all of yesterday. If you want to fight, we will. Just don't expect to

win." Chase opened his mouth, wanting to retort, but House cut him off: "Consider this probation. No patient contact, no lab work. Suck it up – it's either

that or being fired right away." Chase swallowed, nodding. Silently, he made his way back to the conference room. House, however, followed him.

"Phone." he was holding out his hand, and the Australian pulled his mobile out of his pocket, handing it over obediently, if not happily. House then

proceeded to gather all non-medical magazines, crossword puzzles and newspaper pages, ensuring that his duckling didn't have even a shrapnel of fun.

He gestured for Chase to sit down, which he did. House turned back to his office, but faced his underling one last time. "Be good now. I'm watching you!"

Chase sighed. "I know." Smirking, the diagnostician left.


	14. Chapter 14

_Guys, sorry I took so long – and for this horribly short chapter, too. I'm leaving for a trip to Sweden in twenty minutes, just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about this fic. Internet will be expensive where I'm staying, so I might be able to read your reviews, but I won't be able to update. I'm back in two weeks, though. Keep prompting, and I promise I'll write you lots and lots when I'm back!_

* * *

><p>Chase was left to sit and stare at the tabletop. His thoughts wandered, but returned to his situation every couple of minutes. Just the fact that he wasn't<p>

supposed to move made him itch to get up and do some clinic hours, help out in the ER – anything. The intensivist lifted his head and looked at his

employer's office. The blinds were only partly shut, he could see House sitting comfortably in his chair. Reading something. Reading...and sucking a lollipop

at the same time, looking completely content. Chase balled his fists angrily and tried not to think of what he'd like to do to his ass of a boss right now.

* * *

><p>Nearly two hours passed until the intensivist's misery was interrupted. "What did he do now?" Chase started. It was Wilson, standing at the door,<p>

frowning worriedly at the fellow's expression. The corners of the Australian's mouth turned up, but he wasn't smiling. Instead, he gestured to House's

office, indicating that he was being watched and couldn't talk right now. The older doctor nodded, understanding, and came in. He made his way to his

best friend's inner sanctum, closing the door and pulling the blinds.

* * *

><p>"Lesson time?" House asked, having removed his headphones and recognizing Wilson's set jaw. "I swear, Mom, 'twasn't me!" The oncologist didn't allow<p>

himself to laugh at the other doctor's admittedly stupid face. "Right, it wasn't you. So who _has_ been torturing Chase, then?" House smirked. "You say

torture – I call it...training." "You're an ass. He fell asleep here last night, and when I woke him up this morning, the first thing on his mind was how you

were going to punish him. He actually _jumped_ backwards. You terrify the kid." "His ancestors were kangaroos, what do you expect. That and convicts. Mix

those two, you get jumpy in every sense of the word." Wilson was about to retort, explaining that House had got evolution jumbled up, when he noticed

his friend's face. It was the famous "epiphany" face. The oncologist rolled his eyes, waiting. Suddenly, House looked him straight in the eye. "Why was he

scared?" "Because you _scare_ him?" "Yeah, well, he finished your charts, didn't he? So why would I care if he was sleeping?" Wilson hesitated, and the

diagnostician narrowed his eyes. "Want me to ask him myself?" "Good god. He was sleeping in your chair. Can we all keep calm?" Seeing House's face, the

younger doctor raised his eyes heavenwards. "House. He was exhausted." The diagnostician studied his friend. Then, leaning in and using a voice

resembling that of a slightly stoned mobster, he inquired, "What's your price for my silence?" Wilson tried to keep a straight face, but finally cracked a

smile. "You can choose dinner for a week." House scoffed. "I always choose dinner." "But I don't always cook whatever you want without whining about it,

do I?" "No, you sure do love your whining...fine. Add awesome desserts, and I won't mention the theft of my chair. For now." Knowing that was all he was

going to get, Wilson nodded. "Okay. Lunch for me, breakfast for you now?" House nodded, and the two left, House of course fixing his lone duckling with a

look that told him he was in _deep_ trouble should he dare to move. Chase decided going to lunch himself may..._possibly_...be pushing his luck.

* * *

><p>When Cameron and Foreman joined the intensivist in the conference room a short while after, they were surprised to see their colleague doing absolutely<p>

nothing. Foreman studied him and finally asked, "You still alive?" Chase's eyes snapped up to the neurologist's and he nodded. "For now." Cameron sat

down opposite the Australian. "Didn't House give you anything to do?" she inquired, confused. Chase shrugged. "No. I'm fired if I leave the room, though.

He calls it 'probation'" Foreman snorted. "What did you _now_?" "Nothing new. He's pissed because of Janie. And my supposed distraction." Foreman studied

his colleague for a few seconds, before turning around and digging for something in his bag. "Anyone seen my paper?" Cameron shook her head, but

Chase nodded. "House took it, I bet. He swept everything off the table." "What, why?" "Making sure I'd be bored." Foreman just stared. "Seriously?" The

Australian shrugged. "Once, before you guys were here, House was pissed because Cuddy had the lobby redecorated. You know he hates

change...anyway, this one guy, Frendler, told him he kind of liked the new wall colour. House sent him down to the lab and didn't let him leave until eleven

p.m that night...Frendler spent all his work hours in the lab for three weeks." Cameron looked concerned. "Have you talked to him?" Her colleague stared

at her. "Uh...no? You want to get me killed?" "Just tell him how you feel, I'm sure – " Foreman shook his head. "Cameron, House is going to interpret

anything Chase does right now as either sucking up or looking to provoke." To Chase, he added, "Sorry, man, you're screwed." At that, the intensivist

smiled slightly. "Don't I know it. What's the patient's blood say?" "Nothing unusual." Cameron replied. "I've paged House." Chase was careful not to let his

colleagues see, but inside, he winced. He'd hoped not to see his boss again for at least a couple of hours, and he wasn't ready for another round of

abuse.


	15. Chapter 15

_I'm back, guys. Also: I SAW HUGH LAURIE WITH HIS BAND AND IT WAS AWESOME! Slightly surprised at the lack of limping...Sweden was great, thanks. Thanks for your prompts, Pallada and verlan! I've got quite a bit of the story planned out thanks to you ;) As you can see, Pallada, I haven't forgotten aboutthe law event. And thanks, anonymous Guest, you will!_

* * *

><p>Nevertheless, House appeared just fifteen minutes later. "Differential, go." The ducklings started reeling off possibilities. "If his blood sugar's low, we could be<p>

dealing with an odd presentation of Liebreich's syndrome." Foreman suggested, and Cameron added, "Infection's likely, too, because of the sudden onset."

There was a pause, in which enough time passed for the department head to get restless. He eyed his third employee. "Feel free to jump in." Chase

recognized the warning and quickly said, "How about something genetic? We should get a more detailed history." "Wow, pearls of wisdom. Impressive, Dr.

Chase. Do a glucose-tolerance-test, get a white-count, and see if his calcium's low. Test for Liebreich's and Firelli-Sanchez. And get a history." Chase started to

get up with the others, but was yanked back by a cane hooked around his wrist. House stared at him and said, "_You_ are staying in here unless I specifically _tell_

you to leave. Got that?" The Australian sat back down immediately. "Sorry." he replied quietly, not looking at his boss. "And drop the hurt look. It's annoying as

hell." House swept back to his office, leaving the blond doctor in a state not too far away from hopelessness.

* * *

><p>Outside the conference room, Foreman and Cameron had heard House's words and seen their colleague wrenched back unceremoniously. "What is up with<p>

those too?" Foreman said, shaking his head. He tugged the unwilling Cameron along gently, knowing that it would help no-one if House noticed he had an

audience. Once they were out of eyesight, he let her go. Cameron shook her head, stopping. "I don't know..." the immunologist said unhappily, "...but House is

being too hard on him." "House hasn't changed." Foreman argued, "It's Chase. He never used to contradict, and now he's suddenly ignoring him, inviting Janie

to the hospital after House made it clear that he doesn't want her here. I'm not saying House is right – I'd act just like Chase. But still, House is used to him

following instructions to the letter." Cameron shrugged. "I guess. But still, it's getting out of hand. D'you think we should talk to Cuddy?" "What for? She can

prevent House from making Chase work without breaks, sure, but House has a thousand legitimate ways of making his life uncomfortable. And our's. If Cuddy

annoys him, you know who he'll take it out on." Cameron nodded, though she didn't look happy. Foreman sighed. "Come on."

* * *

><p>Cameron and Foreman both returned to the office about an hour later, having divided up the tests between them. "Any sick relatives?" Cameron asked, and<p>

Foreman nodded. "Loads. Alzheimer's, cancer, diabetes...nothing recent, though." The two of them walked into the diagnostic's lounge, where Chase was still

sitting where they'd left him. "Hey, that was fast." Cameron smiled. "We split up. Where's House?" Chase gestured to their employer's office, and Cameron

nodded. Suddenly, House called, "Chase." The intensivist's eyes widened, but he tried to cover his nervousness. Standing up, he bent down to his colleagues.

"Sorry." he whispered, "Divine intervention.". Cameron chuckled, and Foreman grinned, watching the Australian scramble into House's office.

* * *

><p>When Chase entered, House looked up from his gameboy. "Funny, but aren't you afraid that God will smite you? No other Lords in the manor, and all that?"<p>

Chase would have liked to make a witty comment, but unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything even remotely resembling one. "You...sorry, I didn't think

you'd hear." "Yeah, yeah. I didn't call you in here to chat." He waited for Chase to shut up and focus. "Our train leaves at 8:40 a.m." Chase stared, confused.

"Right...on...the fourteenth?" "Tomorrow." "But – tomorrow's only the thirteenth, and Cuddy said – " "I know what Cuddy said, I was there. What's wrong with

you? Free hotel room, might as well enjoy it." Chase shook his head. "You're billing the hospital for two extra days?" "Part of my conditions. And you can

benefit." The intensivist studied his shoes. "Actually, maybe you could take Cameron? She would really like to go, I think." "No." House's curt reply got Chase to

face him again. He thought about just conceding, but couldn't quite bring himself to. And as soon as House lost interest in the argument, he would let his

employee know. Might as well use the time... "Well, but I could help in the ER tomorrow." House looked bored. "Why should that persuade me?" Chase sighed.

If pretence wasn't getting him anywhere, maybe honesty would. "House, I'd like to meet up with Janie tomorrow. Can I at least take a later train?" "How

should I know, can you?" Chase pressed his lips together. "_May_ I?" "No." "Do I get a reason?" "Nope. You could get _out_, though." House looked dangerous

now. Too dangerous. Swallowing, the Australian turned to leave.

* * *

><p>The team managed to cure their patient – without Chase's help, since the intensivist had not been allowed to leave the conference room at all. House finally let<p>

him go at 11 pm, tired and starving. And all the Australian had to look forward to was a night of packing.

Nevertheless, the following morning, Chase was at the train station at half past eight. He wasn't prepared to wait for a full hour... Which he quickly realised he

should have been, since the notion of House leaving his bed before nine was pretty ridiculous.

* * *

><p>When House finally arrived at the platform, Chase had sat down on his suitcase and was slumped over tiredly. "Get up." House said, "Train's leaving." Chase<p>

raised his head and scowled. "Our train left an hour ago. How about telling me when you plan on showing up later than we discussed - at least once in a

while?" House just looked at his employee, waiting for him to get up, which the younger doctor did at last. "Different train. Platform four." House said, handing

Chase his suitcase to carry. "Seriously?!" "Uh, yeah. That's what it says on the schedule." "It's also not what I meant." House smirked. "I know." Looking as

pissed off as a blond, boyish Australian possibly can, Chase grabbed the case and stomped off, his boss following in a much better mood.

* * *

><p>The train had already come in when the two of them had climbed the stairs, Chase panting slightly under the combined weight of House's suitcase and his own<p>

shoulder bag. House handed his employee two tickets, not in the mood to find their seats on his own. Chase, balancing the luggage, tried to squint at the little

numbers. When he looked up again, House was gone. Chase rolled his eyes and tried to spot his boss in the crowd – unsuccessfully. Sighing, the intensivist

made his way up the train's steps, knowing that House's unspoken assignment had been to find their seats.

* * *

><p>House, meanwhile, had entered the train and was slowly making his way through the throng of people. He had memorized their seat's numbers and was<p>

happily eating milk duds straight out of the packet while searching for them. Limping past the other passengers, he declined all offers of seats with a short

shake of his head. Finally, he spotted Chase at the far end of a carriage. When he reached his employee, he jerked his thumb backwards, expecting the

Australian to give up his seat as he had done numerous times, being ordered out of House's chair at the hospital. "Your seat's this one." Chase said, gesturing,

unsure. House pointed at his leg. "I'm gonna need yours too, sorry for the inconvenience." Chase knew better than to argue again and got up quickly, finding a

seat a few rows further back. As soon as he had sat down, though, his mobile buzzed. "This is Chase." "Hi..." Chase grimaced. "House. Why are you calling

me?" "I want a coke. And a danish. And a chocolate bar."


	16. Chapter 16

_Well, guys, you may notice a little of your influence in this chapter already. By the way, I re-read the last chapter – and I'm not happy with it at all, sorry _

_for that. Thank you, Rei. Pallada, I don't know yet. He will probably implode, but it will all end well, as I said. No worries! :) As always, let me know about _

_any mistakes, I'm not sure I used 'meticulously' in the right way, for example. Have fun reading! _

* * *

><p>The train ride only took a little over four hours, but during that time, Chase was sent to find the snack cart seven times. He was thoroughly pissed off after<p>

the first hour, but that didn't do him any good – House simply turned his gleaming blue eyes on him, and that was that. When they had finally arrived at their

station, Chase was exhausted and pulled the luggage along tiredly. House limped ahead briskly. "Come along now, chop-chop." He called, in a mock cheery

voice.

* * *

><p>The hotel wasn't far from the station, and, as expected by House, would be a pleasure to stay in. It was designed by a Scandinavian architect and its<p>

interior, too, was planned meticulously. Glass and plush carpets were intercepted by the occasional bushy plant and water fountains were located in the

seating areas, trickling peacefully. House showed his I.D. and the clerk pulled up their reservations, looking from Chase to House and back again. "You're here

for the lecture?" he asked, and House confirmed with a nod. The man's eyes darted back and forth between his clients again, curious but trying not to seem

it. He took a key card from a compartment under the counter and smiled. "Welcome to Ascott's, I hope you will enjoy your stay." House took the card and

walked to the elevator. Chase stared after him confusedly and looked back at the receptionist. "Do...are we staying in a suite?" he asked quietly, but the

man shook his head. "Chase!" House called impatiently from the elevator, and the Australian grabbed the bags, following quickly. Once they were in the lift,

Chase gathered his courage. "We're not staying in the – in the same room...are we?" The diagnostician raised his eyebrows. "Same room, different beds.

Though I'm willing to negotiate, but you're gonna have to shave your legs. Hairy girls freak me out." Chase shook his head to erase the picture those words

had created, and tried to talk. "Uh. Why?" was all he managed to say. "'Cause they're scratchy, and – _oh_. Why are we staying in the same room? Because I

need someone to fetch me drinks and stuff, in case you hadn't noticed – " House used a stage whisper, "I'm disabled." In his normal voice, he continued,

"Also, I have to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't run off back to your girlfriend." The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Chase got

out, but turned back to his boss. "We're in a hotel. _Room service_ will bring you drinks, ever heard of it?" "You have to tip room service, or they spit in your

food." Chase glowered, and House wagged his finger. "Don't get ideas."

* * *

><p>A short while later, the two were lying on their respective beds. Chase had taken out his laptop and House was studying the hotel's room manual, but got<p>

bored with that. "Pass the remote." The diagnostician wasn't facing his minion, but extended his hand, waiting. No reaction. "Chase!" The young doctor was

bent over his laptop, busily tapping keys and smiling slightly. "CHASE!" House had thrown a pillow at his employee, along with this call, and Chase started. His

eyes snapped up to the older doctor, wide and nervous. "Yes?" "Remote!" Chase reached out and let the small object drop into the other doctor's palm.

"What the hell is keeping you so damn engrossed? I hope it's somehow internet-porn related." Chase blushed and shook his head, hair flying everywhere and

then falling back into place perfectly. "Actually...I was writing to Janie." Had he faced his employer, he'd have seen House's formerly relaxed face turn stony.

When Chase looked up at House again, though, stony had morphed into bored and slightly sadistic. Which could not mean anything good. "I want a summary

of the first day's lectures." House said, and his tone made clear he wasn't in the mood to argue. Chase simply nodded, controlling his anger at having to

write up uneventful lectures, instead of his boss simply taking the trouble to read the hand-outs he had collected for the both of them from the hotel lobby.

He highly doubted House would glance at the reports, too, but what was the point in arguing again? House would get his way in the end. The Australian

turned back to the screen and resumed his tapping. "I meant now." "Now? Why now?" "Why not?" "Because...well. We just got here. I'm tired. And I'm writing

to Janie." "You can flirt with your friend on your own time. Get to it." "We're not even at the hospital, technically, I am on my own time." "Uh, no.

Technically, all this counts as my time, 'cause this is a hospital event. Get. To. It." Chase narrowed his eyes, his face became a grimace. Angrily, he typed

"gt2go", hoping Janie would understand, and rose to fetch his notes from his bag at the foot of the bed. House watched him. "When we get home, you're

taking care of all bodily fluids for a week." "What? _Why_? I'm doing your damn report!" "At last." His employee looked like he was going to keep arguing, but

House raised his eyebrows. "Wanna make it two weeks?" Avoiding eye contact, Chase got to work.

* * *

><p>For a long time, the only sounds in the room were those of Chase tapping keys and the television blaring some kind of family drama. House had settled on his<p>

bed comfortably, a drink in his hand and a bag of pretzels in reach. He was engrossed in the show and only noticed his employee's lack of movement when

the commercial began. The Australian had been lying on his stomach while working. Now, his head rested on the keyboard, one hand still clutching the tack

of paper beside him. He was breathing easily, and undoubtedly fast asleep. House stared for a while, studying the young man's relaxed face. He knew waking

him up would provide some entertainment, as Chase always needed some time to adjust to consciousness, and would probably be expecting his boss to

saddle him with more work as punishment for falling asleep. On the other hand...it wasn't often the intensivist looked relaxed. House grabbed his cane and

got up as quietly as he could. He stepped over to the other man's bed and pulled at the laptop, succeeding in removing it from under his duckling's head.

Hesitating just a moment, the diagnostician draped a spare blanket over the Australian, taking care to use one already on the bed. This way, Chase would

hopefully believe he'd covered himself on his own while half-awake. The intensivist stirred slightly, and House froze. Slowly, he took a step backward.

"Shhh..." he whispered, and Chase sighed in his sleep. It was a content sigh, and House couldn't help but smile as his employee snuggled into the sheet. Ah,

well. He'd make up for that moment of weakness by tormenting him when he woke up. Or the next day...


	17. Chapter 17

_Well, I did promise, Sightless Sound ;) Thanks Pallada, Rei and verlan, I'm relieved you guys didn't mind the last chapter... :) This is just a__ short one _

_because I felt like writing this morning, but didn't really have anything planned out, hope you like it... I'd be grateful for some suggestions as to what House _

_and Chase might ask each other in their game of Truth or Dare, so if you have any, let me know!  
><em>

* * *

><p>Two hours passed before Chase woke up, and when he did, he was awake immediately. His eyes snapped open and directly to House, who was still sitting on<p>

his bed, watching some kind of cartoon now. On the screen, a dog was beating a cat in a sailor suit over the head using a tennis racket, so the

diagnostician was sufficiently amused. Chase peered at his boss, wondering how long he'd been asleep and if his nap could really have gone unnoticed. Or, if

it hadn't, what House was planning to do to him in retaliation. The Australian sat up slowly and froze when House turned to look at him. He didn't bother

trying to explain, just shifted his gaze to the floor. The older doctor was tempted to simply let his employee be, but knew that would probably make Chase

completely paranoid. "Had a nice nap?" House asked instead, and his minion shrugged. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep." "Sure. You owe me." Though the

intensivist didn't seem convinced, he nodded. "I want a scotch." "It's only – " Chase checked his watch, "it's only four o'clock." Realising that House did not

care about social conventions in general, and even less about the opinions his lackeys had to offer, the Australian shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going."

House settled back in approval and watched the younger doctor rub his temples before getting up.

* * *

><p>The intensivist returned shortly after, handing his employer a glass of golden liquid. "You mind if I go for a walk?" Chase asked. House looked at him like he<p>

was crazy. "Are you even done?" he inquired, gesturing at the laptop. His employee nodded. "Yeah." The diagnostician pretended to think, and then said,

"What's in it for me?" "Why should I repay you for letting me take a walk? I'm not asking you to _take_ me for one, all you need to do is tell me I can leave."

"How come you're asking me for permission at all then?" "Because if I don't, you'll see it as proof I'm trying to undermine your authority and usurp the throne.

Which would not be good for me." "In that case, you do need me to approve. So, I repeat: 'What's in it for me?'" Chase sighed. "Never mind." He flopped

down on the bed, and silence ensued. House returned to his show, while the younger man was gazing out the window idly, watching the leaves blow and

wishing he had the guts to defy his boss.

* * *

><p>"I'm bored." Just half an hour had passed since Chase had been sent out for scotch, and House's program had ended barely thirty seconds ago. Which is why<p>

the intensivist looked at his boss rather disbelievingly. "Well, do something." "Like what?" "Turn the TV back on. Read one of those magazines...check out the

Spa...you could unpack your suitcase..." "Your ideas are crap. What's the time?" "Four thirty." House was silent, and Chase turned back to the window.

* * *

><p>"Unpack my stuff." Chase sat up. His boss had been quiet, and he'd presumed him to be asleep. Which had obviously not been right. "You want <em>me<em> to unpack

your stuff." "Yup." The Australian thought about arguing, but realised he'd probably end up not only unpacking House's suitcase, but also cleaning the

bathtub and proofreading the diagnostic department's insurance forms back at the hospital. Which was not worth it. As the blond doctor zipped open the

case, House said, "Well done." Chase stared up at him. "What?" "You're finally getting back to your subservient self." "I...always do what you say. We've had

this conversation." "Yes we have, and – without arguing first – no, you don't. Not recently. Remind me to not torture you for the next half hour." Placing

stacks of clothing on the bed, Chase snorted. "That's generous."

* * *

><p>Though Chase had not admitted it, even half an hour devoid of mocking and running errands seemed pretty awesome. Sadly, when he was done packing, the<p>

blessed thirty minutes had past and House was back on his game. "Let's play something!" he suggested, grinning madly. His underling frowned

apprehensively. "Like what?" "Truth or Dare!" "House...that...is a game for thirteen-year-olds who are having slumber parties." "Who cares?" Chase was

squirming under his employer's glare. "I'm just worried it won't be fun. I mean, it's the kind of game you play in a group, you know?" "I'll decide whether I'm

having fun." The Australian mumbled something, and House turned on him. "What was that?" "Nothing." "Chase..." "I just – I just said that was fine with me

and we could try." "No you didn't. Lie to me again, and you can be the one taking care of that unpleasant stain in my carpet when we get back." Chase

realised he was screwed. "I, well, I was asking whether _I_ didn't get to decide whether I'll be having fun." Sighing at his employer's expression, the intensivist

waited for a response miserably. "Okay then. No, you don't get to decide. And when we get home, you can be the one taking care of that unpleasant stain

in my carpet." House had expected his employee to protest again and was prepared to crush him, but Chase accepted the punishment without argument. His

boss smirked. "Truth or dare?" A moment's hesitation, and then, "Truth."


	18. Chapter 18

_Yeah, Guest, he's not exactly happy. Pallada, thanks for the vote of confidence. And verlan, thank you for your suggestions – I included some of them in _

_the next chapter, which was very easy for me to write because whenever I get prompts, the story shapes around them in record time :)_

* * *

><p>House's eyes glinted, pondering the questions shaping in his head. Suddenly, though, he narrowed them in thought. "We can't start yet. You need leverage."<p>

"Leverage?" Chase echoed. "I have to give you something to use against me – if I can just refuse to answer this won't be any fun. You know I won't have

any problems making you comply." The younger doctor forced a smile to show he was well aware of that fact. House mused, and finally said, "For every

question I don't answer, you get to be me for thirty minutes." "How do you mean?" "You can play the hot and highly intelligent department head – and I'll be

the minion at your beck and call. Same goes for any challenges I don't complete." Chase blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again,

blinking once more. Then: "Okay." House raised his eyebrows. "That was quick. So what about you?" "Well, you'll threaten me? You can make my life hell any

time you want to." "Yeah, but if you continue to piss me off like you did the last week, I'm planning on doing that either way." Chase paled slightly, while the

diagnostician looked thoughtful. "How about...if you refuse an answer or a challenge, I earn the right to have you say a single sentence to a person I

choose." The Australian shrugged. As always, House wasn't really asking. "Fine."

* * *

><p>The department head leant back. "Okay then. We'll do a practice run: Have you ever kissed a raccoon?" Chase rubbed his temples. "Um. No." He waited, and<p>

then became aware of the fact that it was his turn. "Truth or dare?" "Truth." House stared at his employee impatiently for a while. At last, Chase thought of

something. "Why – " "Chase." House interrupted. "Yeah?" "You do realise you'll be dead meat if you ask me anything I don't want to answer?" Chase gulped.

He should have expected that. "Right." The older doctor nodded in acknowledgement and settled back. "When did you know you were going to be a doctor?"

"When I passed my certifications. Truth or dare?" "Truth." "What did you think when you first saw me?" The intensivist's eyes got worried. "I...I felt

honoured. To meet you." "Come on. Will you stop it?" Chase looked away. "Sorry. I did think that, but, well, I also thought you looked...sad?" House nodded.

"Truth." "Why did you want me to come?" "Here? I told you already. You do everything I say." House wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the complete truth

either. Oh well. It wasn't like Chase would ever know. The Australian sighed. "Right." "Hey, that reminds me...I need M&M's." "You need M&M's." "Of course.

It's a tradition. Whenever we play Truth or dare, you fetch some for me during the game." "We've never played truth or dare." "No? Well...that calls for some

celebratory snack, doesn't it?" The younger doctor scowled at his employer, who looked back. "Get going."

* * *

><p>When Chase returned to the hotel room ten minutes later, he tossed his boss the requested M&amp;M's. "Finally." House said, at which the Australian scowled<p>

again. House smiled. His wombat was too cute when he was trying to be fierce. Chase dropped back on his bed, and the diagnostician stuffed a handful of

the chocolate-covered peanuts in his mouth. "Truth!" he said around them. His opponent thought for a couple of seconds before asking, "Have you ever

respected one of your employees?" "Fishing for compliments?" House inquired, smirking. Then, he simply said, "Yeah." The other doctor scratched his head,

realising he'd have to ask his questions differently. With House, you had to think ahead to make sure you would get a real answer. "Okay...um, truth." "Who

do you like better, Foreman or Cameron?" "I'm uncomfortable answering a question that – " "Oh, shut up. Tell me." Chase sighed. "Cameron." "Thank you. I'll

take a dare."

* * *

><p>The younger doctor thought about that. "Okay...I dare you to go out into the corridor and...and yell, 'They're coming for me' at the top of your voice."<p>

House just had to look at his minion to let him know he was definitely over the line there. "I'm kidding." Chase said quickly, even though he hadn't been. "I

dare you to..." The Australian glanced at his boss helplessly. House rolled his eyes. "Just say something." "I dare you to turn on the TV." the blond doctor

finished, aware of how lame that had been. The department head turned on the television with a smirk. "All done. Truth or dare?" "Truth." "What scares you

the most?" Chase stared at his mattress. "Hello?" Reluctantly, the intensivist looked up. "You do." he admitted, refusing eye contact again immediately.

"Why?" Technically, elaborating would not have been his obligation, but Chase answered anyway. "I...I really don't want to lose this job. Even if you treat me

like crap, it's the best job I've ever had. And you're the one who can...take it away from me." "Foreman likes his job. Cameron loves...well, not the job, but

me. How come you're the only one who constantly has his tail between his legs?" Chase glanced at his employer's face. "I don't know." "Well, you need to

find out." House had turned serious. "If you don't want your opinions to be dismissed, you'll have to be more assertive."

* * *

><p>It was unusual for the diagnostician to offer a member of his team advice, and even more unusual to do this not with a metaphor, but using actual words.<p>

Chase eyed his boss suspiciously, trying to find out whether he was being tricked somehow. Not seeing any sign of that, he nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." "But

you'll forget about it when you're dealing with me." At his employee's puzzled look, House elaborated, "I don't like emancipated ducklings. Stay cute and fluffy

as long as you can." Chase shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Truth or dare?" "Truth." "When you call me an idiot...do you mean it?" "Generally." Chase was

satisfied – that had, in a way, been a compliment. Considering he was talking to House. He was getting better at those questions. "Dare." "Finally. Call the

reception and ask them whether it would be possible to rent the room for a whole year. When they ask why, explain you're looking for a place to open a

greyhound sanctuary." Silence. House looked at his intensivist. "Well?" "And you wouldn't even yell one sentence in the corridor." The older doctor looked at

his employee innocently. "I thought you'd been joking on that?" "Right." "Are you refusing?" "Can I?" "Are you asking for permission to refuse?" "I suppose."

"No." "No?" "No." Chase swallowed, and House passed him the phone. "Let's go."


	19. Chapter 19

_Thank you, Guests, and don't worry, I won't abandon the story! verlan and Pallada, as always, thank you for your detailed and incredibly kind reviews, you _

_made my day! This story would probably have been dropped after the first few chapters if it weren't for you guys (and you, assioma). Just so you know :) _

_Everyone, House is not politically correct. So please remember, anything he says about homosexuals in this or the following chapter(s) is the opinion of a _

_fictional character. Also: My best friend is gay, and I love him to bits. Which is why I won't let House be too horrible...so no worries! _

* * *

><p>When the young doctor had punched in the numbers, he held the receiver to his ear nervously. "How can I help you today?" a female voice chirped. Chase<p>

made one last attempt of getting out of his situation by gazing up at his boss, begging him to relent. At his employer's stony face, however, the Australian

ran a tongue over his lip. "Hello, this is Dr. Chase speaking. I would like to know whether it would be possible to rent a room for as long as several months, a

year even?" "Well, Sir, that depends, but the general possibility exists, certainly." "That's good to know. You see, I'm planning on opening a sanctuary for

greyhounds, and I haven't found a suitable place yet." The receptionist was stunned. "You...pardon, did you say you were planning to open a sanctuary?"

"Yes." "In our hotel?" "Yes." "Um. I'm sorry, but that won't be possible, Dr. Chase. You see, we have certain policies..." she trailed off, that particular subject

not having been touched in the course every employee had to take before being let loose on guests. House was grinning and decided to let the poor girl off

the hook. He signalled to his lackey, letting him know he had completed the challenge. "Oh, that's all right." Chase said quickly, glad to finally be able to hang

up. "Thank you, miss, have a nice day!" "You too, Sir."

* * *

><p>Having placed the receiver back on the cradle, the Australian groaned. "That was horrible." House grinned, and the intensivist stared in awe. He had hardly<p>

ever seen his boss simply look happy, there was always been a sadistic component involved when he was grinning at his youngest fellow. All his fellows,

actually. Chase couldn't help but smile, sharing an amused look with the other doctor. Just for a split second, they were equals. Not quite friends,

but...acquaintances, maybe. Then, the moment was gone. House nodded at the younger man. "Truth." He saw the glint in his duckling's eyes, eager for

revenge and cleared his throat, glaring to make sure the kid remembered not to overdo it. Chase's face fell. "Um, what was your first pet called?" "Georgia. A

fruit fly I kept in a shoebox. Truth or dare?" "_Truth_!" "Name something you like to do." "I like to ski. And occasionally I do some origami..." House stared.

"_Origami_?" he asked, stunned. "_You _are not working nearly hard enough. Origami. Remind me of that next time I'm deciding which of you guys has to monitor

a patient overnight." Chase nodded, making a mental note never to mention this use of his free time ever again. "Truth." House said. His duckling thought for

a few seconds. "Do you believe in God?" "No."

* * *

><p>House took a gulp of his drink, deciding to crank it up a notch. He wasn't sure why he'd suggested this game. Of course, tormenting Chase was one of his<p>

favourite pastimes. But if he was honest with himself, the diagnostician knew that wasn't the only reason he was spending time with his duckling. He didn't

know why, but he liked to hear Chase talk about himself. Telling himself he was simply looking for ammunition to use against his intensivist later, House set

down his glass. "How did your mother die?"

* * *

><p>When House glanced at his employee, he almost regretted asking the question. The Australian looked tormented by memories and had his lips pressed<p>

together. "I don't want to answer that." he mumbled. House knew he'd be able to make the younger doctor speak, but after a moment's consideration, he

decided to let him off the hook. "Fine. That's one point against you, though." "I know." "And I get another question." "Of course you do." "How many times

did you have to clean up her vomit, while she was screaming at you to go and buy booze?" Had anyone else been sitting in the room with him, Chase would

have walked out. He reminded himself that – well, you didn't walk out on House if you wanted to continue enjoying lunch hours and sleeping once in a while.

His voice was barely audible when he replied, "That I don't want to answer either." "This is getting boring. New rule. You can't refuse three questions in a

row, unless you want your schedule slightly expanded. And by 'slightly' I mean 'get in at five and leave at ten'." He looked at Chase and was satisfied at the

young doctor's apprehensive expression. "First kiss?" The intensivist blushed. He desperately wanted the game to end, but was aware it wouldn't until House

had had his fun. "Katie Milner. I was...fourteen." "You're lying." If possible, Chase went even redder at that. His boss stared at him. Finally, Chase said: "22."

House smirked. "I thought so. Truth."

* * *

><p>Chase needed some time to compose himself, and noticed he was starving. "Can I go out for a snack?" "No." "I'm hungry." "I suspected." House tossed him a<p>

single M&M, which the Australian stared at for a while. "Dinner will be served soon..." he reminded his boss. "Keep talking about food, and it'll take even

longer to finish the game." Chase sighed. "Okay. What was your mother's maiden name?" House scoffed. "Why do you want to know _that_?" His employee

shrugged. "I'm running out of questions I can ask safely." "Pathetic. Smith." "That's not her real name, is it?" "No. I don't want you searching databases for

dirt on my mamma." Chase blinked. That had _not_ been his plan, but he didn't bother to voice this. Instead, he said, "So...you lied." "Yeah." "Technically..."

"What?" "Never mind." "_What_?" "Um, technically that would mean we're swapping places for half an hour." "I don't think so." "But you said – " "Make me."

Recognizing defeat, Chase nodded. "You've got a point. Truth." "Have you ever regretted accepting the position on the team?" "No." "Interesting. You _are_ a

masochist." "I'm not saying there's no downside." "What's that then?" "Shouldn't that count as another question?" "Shouldn't you be less cocky?" Chase rolled

his eyes, but dropped the issue since House looked pretty serious. "Right. Downside...well, I'm not getting a lot of sleep." "That's it?" The intensivist

hesitated. "Yeah..." "Spill." "..." "Can we skip the part where I threaten you and you fold?" "I...I guess sometimes you can be very...determined." "Meaning?

Don't sugar-coat it." "You always know what you want." "And?" "You always get what you want. Collateral damage; other people might suffer. Like...us."

"Hm. Sucks to be you. Dare." Chase rested his head in his hands. "I dare you to tell me one thing you like...about me." House snorted. "Wow. Way to admit

you want compensation for the lack of Daddy's praise..." The younger doctor shrugged. His boss was probably right. "I like your hair. Truth or dare?" "Truth."

"Are you in love with Janie?" Chase's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. "I guess...I don't know. No. Not yet at least." House nodded, lost in thought.

* * *

><p>"House?" "Yeah?" "Truth or dare?" "Truth." "Okay, um, who do you admire?" "Keira Knightley." "What the hell?" "She's a pirate. And she's hot." "Well, yeah,<p>

but...yeah, okay. Truth." "Do you genuinely like me?" Chase had noticed House's questions had gotten a lot more personal during the game, and he was

especially reluctant to answer this one. "Yes." he admitted, fumbling with his sheets. House didn't smile, but he would have liked to. "Truth." he said. Chase

was silent, searching for a question. After a while, his boss got impatient. "What are you waiting for?" "I'm trying to come up with a question you will want to

answer, it's not that easy." "Don't be so bitchy. Are you gay?" The Australian looked absolutely shocked. "_What_?" he spat, "How – why...?" House smirked.

"You're way too whiny to be straight." Chase was still struggling with his words. "I'm...I..._no I'm not gay_!" "It'll be our little secret." "House! Stop it! I'm not

gay. I've never – you know, I'm just not gay." "Denial." The intensivist was close to tears, exhausted and dreading the rumours his employer would gleefully

spread in the hospital. "Why do you have to be like this?" "Like what?" Normally, Chase would have recognized House's face and known to stop talking. But

he was so worked up, his instincts didn't kick in until it was to late. "Why do you always have to pick on me? You're belittling me every chance you get. You

keep telling me I'm an idiot, and whenever I dare to cross you, you find some way to punish me. You enjoy making people suffer. You're not God, House. You

think you can get away with this, but you're just going to be alone one day." When Chase fell silent, he heard his own words and bit his lip. He didn't look at

his boss, but he didn't have to. There was no doubt about it...he was in big trouble. "Get out." House said, in a voice so threatening Chase didn't even have

time to think about what he was doing. The intensivist bolted out of his bed, reaching the door in under three seconds. It closed slowly behind him, and

House shut his eyes. His expression was pained...but it wasn't his leg that was throbbing.


	20. Chapter 20

Haha Rei, Pallada and verlan, I think you'll be surprised. Hope you like the chapter even if it isn't very eventful. I didn't have a lot of free time, Pallada knows

why ;] But I'll upload another chapter very soon, by tonight maybe. Assioma – thanks, sure I will! :]

* * *

><p>House sat on his bed for a full ten minutes, staring into space and trying to compose himself. He had no idea why suddenly, his angry duckling wasn't pure<p>

amusement but the things he said actually...hurt. The diagnostician sipped from his scotch again and noticed the time. Nearly seven. Wearily, he got up,

grabbing his cane and slowly making his way to the door.

* * *

><p>As soon as he limped into the corridor, House had to sidestep his employee, who was sitting on the carpet. "Chase!" House growled, "Why the hell are you<p>

sitting on the floor?" The younger doctor looked like a scared five-year-old, gazing up at his boss. "Sorry." he said nervously, inching backwards. "Yeah. Not

an answer." "Um, I...I didn't have any shoes." Indeed, the Australian was barefoot, not having found the time to grab his loafers when House had ordered him

outside. He hadn't even considered going back in to fetch them, knowing he would probably be rewarded by something colliding with his head the second he

walked into the room. "Go get them. We're having dinner." Chase rose immediately, flattening himself against the wall when passing his employer just to avoid

asking him to move. House clenched at the sight of the young man, but scolded himself immediately. Since when was he feeling sorry for his lackeys?

Shaking his head, the diagnostician resolved to keep himself in check.

* * *

><p>When Chase arrived back outside, footwear included, House limped ahead at his usual speed, leaving the younger doctor to follow. They reached the<p>

elevator and stepped in, Chase standing beside the panel of buttons but staring into space silently. House smacked the back of his head sharply, and the

intensivist jumped backwards, wincing. "_Ow_." he complained, "What'd I do?" "Push the button, moron." Knowing it would not be smart to protest, Chase

simply did as he was told.

* * *

><p>The two arrived in the dining-hall shortly after. House strode ahead, having spotted a corner table, and the younger doctor followed him. When he had<p>

caught up, his boss was already sitting in a chair. "Go see what's on the menu." House instructed. Nodding, the other doctor turned around, making his way

back to the buffet.

* * *

><p>A short while later, the blonde returned to the table. He took a deep breath, and then presented a long list of dinner options: "Uh, potato-and-lentils soup.<p>

Roast beef. Corn. Peas. Wild rice and mushroom sauce. Fries. Pasta. Turkey. Spring rolls. Baked potatoes. Chocolate mousse. Garlic bread. Mini pizzas. Mac

'n' Cheese. Fresh fruit. Lobster. Chilli. Almond cake. Pecan Pie. Chicken wings. Salad...lemon sorbet...and...I think that's it." Despite himself, House was

sincerely impressed at the other man's memory. "You're wasted at the hospital. You should be a waiter." Chase hid his annoyance with a strained smile. "Mac

'n' Cheese and mushroom sauce." The Australian frowned. "Together?" "If it's not too much trouble." Sighing quietly, Chase turned and made his way back to

the other end of the room. He had expected to be sent for food, but couldn't suppress the feeling House was quite deliberately humiliating him. Then

again...when wasn't he? Deciding it didn't really matter since complaining would definitely not accomplish anything, the intensivist filled a plate with his

employer's requested meal.

* * *

><p>Back at the table, Chase set the bowl macaroni down in front of his boss and placed his own plate opposite. "Interesting choice." House commented. His<p>

employee was slightly surprised, as his meal consisted of baked potatoes, turkey and vegetables – it didn't get much more traditional than that. "Thank

you..." he mumbled anyway, and sat down. "Actually..." Sighing, Chase got back on his feet, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, what else?" "Beer."

* * *

><p>Arriving back at the table for the third time, Chase planted himself on his chair firmly, as if telling House he would not get up again before finishing his meal.<p>

However, when he looked down on his plate, Chase realised there wasn't much to finish on it anyway. All the baked potatoes were gone, and at least half of

the turkey. "You see, a dog was attacking a baby, so I had to distract him by offering food. And everyone know dogs hate macaroni." Nodding mutely,

House's fellow got up, taking his plate with him.

* * *

><p>Back again, Chase was finally able to start eating. He tucked in, gradually feeling better. When he was not quite as starved as he had been, he started<p>

looking around the dining room between bites. House noticed him winking at someone and glared. "Go get me a refill." he ordered sharply, and the Australian

went, if not happily.

* * *

><p>This continued for a while – every couple of minutes, Chase would start winking, and get sent away for something. Finally, House had had enough. His<p>

employee felt a cane hooked around his headrest, pulling him back. The Australian was close to toppling off his chair and heard his boss demand they leave

at once. He was still wondering how House had managed to sneak behind him when he was yanked back again. "I'm coming!" he growled, not enjoying this

treatment. Finally, his boss unhooked the cane and walked off, expecting Chase to follow. Which he did, with a look of dismay...and while stuffing a last

baked potato in his mouth. Trailing after his boss, he waved to the little girl at the other end of the room once more.

* * *

><p>"You can go take your walk now." House said coldly, when the other doctor had caught up with him. "Actually, I don't really want to any more..." "Let me<p>

rephrase: Go take your walk." Chase scowled, but knew his boss was in a dangerous mood. "Fine." He stopped at the elevator, and House stared at him.

"What? You want me to go right now?" The intensivist sighed at the glare he received in response. "Yeah, yeah. You did say 'now'. I'm going." He turned,

walking away from the elevators, happy that he had at least taken a coat with him. Little did he know he'd need that coat more urgently than he

suspected...


	21. Chapter 21

Pallada, I did feel evil ;] No problem Rei, I'm glad you laughed. I was decontaminating my cat, but all's fine

* * *

><p>Chase had been walking for about half an hour when he began to slowly make his way back to the hotel. He suspected his boss would be in need of<p>

attention or some sugared snack soon, and did not want to suffer the consequences if these demands weren't dealt with immediately. He trotted through

the hotel grounds, breathing in the slightly damp evening air and waved at the concierge, who smiled back in the polite, yet professionally distant way hotel

staff is trained to act.

* * *

><p>House meanwhile was standing on the balcony of the room he shared with his wombat, contemplating the day's events. Whenever he pictured the younger<p>

doctor's wink, a surge of anger rushed through him. House was not used to hiding his emotions for the benefit of others. To protect himself, certainly. On

occasion he'd even held back for special people, such as Stacy...Wilson too, a couple of times. But he certainly wasn't used to sparing his ducklings,

normally his team had to deal with the full range of their employer's emotions. By now, they hardly blinked when House was scheming, bouncing entirely

non-medical ideas off them for a change. They had learned to offer unrequested snacks when the diagnostician was threatening to get hungry, and if he

was seriously pissed off they simply vanished, resurfacing only when he called them back or the patient was actually dying. And even then, they huddled in the

doorway of whichever room their boss was brooding in, keeping a safe distance and ready to duck in case a whiteboard marker came flying. All in all, it was

understood that House did not consider his ducklings' feelings. Ever.

* * *

><p>So why was he worrying about Chase suddenly? The kid had looked completely crestfallen when he'd been sent for that walk. House rested his chin on his cane and<p>

looked out across the lake adjoining the hotel grounds. He narrowed his eyes, picturing his employee. Stupid Aussie, making life so much harder when he was

supposed to just be an amusing toy...House came to a decision. He'd have to get over himself, and treat his blonde like any other employee. Which meant the boy'd

have to be paid back for...well, for winking. After all, flirting during dinner was not exactly professional. And the department had a reputation to uphold. Yeah, that

definitely sounded plausible...the diagnostician smirked. Chase was in for a surprise.

The blond doctor arrived at the door to the room just seconds after House had made his decision. He knocked politely, waiting. Then he knocked again. And again, a

little more resolutely this time. House counted. The wombat gave up after exactly thirty-one knocks – refraining from kicking the door or even calling out. The

diagnostician grinned. The coward hadn't even tried the door.

* * *

><p>House had relaxed on his bed when, about five minutes afterwards, there was yet another knock at the door. "Room service." Slightly suspicious, but curious at the<p>

same time, he straightened up a little. "Enter." A young, chubby man dressed in the hotel's uniform appeared, pushing a food trolley. He smiled in greeting and went

over to the little round table by the window. "A Reuben's without pickles...ginger ale...almond cake...salt and vinegar crisps...and a pack of M&M's. There you are,

Sir, enjoy." Stunned, House nodded. "Thanks." He ignored the short pause, obvious prompt for a tip, and instead inquired, "Do you work in this hotel?" Puzzled, the

other nodded. "Yes, Sir." His face clearly conveyed the "Duh..." he'd added in his mind. House glared. "_Okay then_. You see, you've been in this room for such an

alarming amount of time, I'm beginning to think my room-mate's just donned a striking new outfit." The poor bus-boy backed away, his eyes widened. He had only

started this job a week ago and was constantly surprised at the level of meanness some people achieved. He'd spent his life being coddled by his very loving

parents, who had finally agreed to let him move out of their bedroom after an incessant amount of begging at the age of 12. Ronny was 17 now, and still waiting to

be trusted with washing the dishes. He cleared his throat nervously. "Right, so sorry, Sir. Consider me gone." "Wish I could." House grumbled, which the young man

didn't hear. A good thing, considering his therapist really had her hands full as it was...

* * *

><p>Once the kid had fled, he stood in the corridor for a second, gathering himself. "Excuse me..." Ronny turned and nodded at the good-looking blond man in front of<p>

him. "How may I help you, Sir?" he said, still pretty weak from his encounter with House. He room you just came out of – there was a middle-aged man in there,

cane, rather tall?" "I'm not sure I'm permitted to reveal such information, Sir." Chase sighed. "All right. Just tell me – was anybody in there at all?" Ronny still looked

a little worried, but nodded. "Yes." Chase slipped him a five-dollar-bill. "Thank you!" Ronny walked off, thoroughly shaken.

* * *

><p>Chase was thinking about the options available. He could, of course, try knocking again and hope he'd be let in. Fat chance. He could just enter, and run the risk of<p>

being ordered right back out by an even angrier House. Or...well, not enter. And sleep somewhere else. The intensivist groaned. He was exhausted and would have

liked a shower, followed by sleep. The relief he'd felt at the information that House was not lying on the floor passed out from a Vicodin overdose had passed very

quickly. Silently, Chase cursed his misanthropic boss for deliberately ruining yet another night but reminded himself that he had to play by House's rules, simply

because House wouldn't even begin to accept anything else. The Australian sighed, and sat down on the carpet. He closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Sir?" Chase's eyes snapped open. Ronny. "Uh, yes?" "You are a guest at this hotel, aren't you? Have you lost your key-card, by any chance?" The young doctor<p>

rubbed his temples. His key-card was safely in his pocket, but he decided all the other optional answers sounded either moronic or creepy, and settled for, "Yes, I

have." The bus-boy smiled at his own intellect. "Well, I can help you there, Sir!" he proclaimed, apparently thinking Chase had sat down in front of the door to is

room in despair. The Australian nodded distractedly. "That would be great, thank you." Ronny waddled off proudly, promising to return shortly.

* * *

><p>Which he did. The bus-boy presented Chase with a card and stood back, smiling happily. The Australian nodded awkwardly. "Um, well, thanks." A pause. "Maybe you<p>

should try opening the door, Sir?" "Not...not right now, thank you. I..." Chase racked his brain, "See, my girlfriend's in there, and we kind of had a fight..." "Ah..."

Ronny said knowingly, even though he hadn't had many fights with girls of his age. Not many at all. Nevertheless, he fully accepted the intensivist's explanation.

"Okay then, I'll leave you too it. May I suggest...there's an excellent bar downstairs. Chase tried to appear interested. "Right, thank you." "Anytime, Sir." Finally,

Ronny ambled off. In front of House's room, his minion sighed, sliding down the wall again and actually lying down on the carpet this time. He had folded his coat as

a pillow and snuggled into it now, sighing softly for the second time. In seconds, he was asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

_Pallada, me too. All the time! Remorseful, definitely, but he's a long way from letting his duckling see... Well Rei, he's not asleep yet, even if that's for a different reason. Zaffiro, thank you for your long review, I smiled at all your praise. I'm always unsure whether my House is too mean, but then again, I take care not to make him do anything we haven't seen on the show. So his meanness is just accumulating. ;] I'm relieved the pace isn't putting new readers off, I thought it may be. But it wouldn't feel right for House to fall head over heels for anyone, so I don't think I could change that. I did change the layout – what do you guys think? If the story really is easier to read like that, I'll be happy to keep it this way. Yeah, verlan, I can imagine Chase sitting barefoot in some hotel corridor, quite crushed. :]_

* * *

><p>House had started nibbling M&amp;M's even though he wasn't hungry. His thoughts strayed from the television to his duckling constantly, as he wondered whether<p>

he'd been too hard on him. Suddenly: "Mmmbop ba duba dop ba...du bop ba duba – dop ba du, baduba..." House flipped his phone open.

„Yeah."

Foreman's voice answered. "House. We've got a nine-year-old with the flu brought in by her grandma – "

"Sounds like a diagnosis to me."

You could practically hear Foreman rolling his eyes, "Yeah. I wasn't done. She has all the usual symptoms, but says her face feels 'weird'."

"Doped up. Go granny!"

"Drug screen was negative..."

"Well that's annoying. Means you'll be on the clock for a while, taking a very thorough hist – "

"Done."

Cameron chimed in, eager to end the battle of snark and begin helping her patients: "There are no genetic diseases they know about, and they haven't left the

country lately."

House got out of bed, phone still at his ear. "Define 'lately'."

"Last five years."

"Hm..." House had limped over to the door and opened it. He glanced around, not noticing his employee at first. When he did, he winced mentally. The

intensivist was curled up on the floor, hugging his coat, fast asleep. His neck was angled awkwardly, and House sighed. At the hospital, Cameron frowned.

"What's up?"

Her boss didn't respond, busy deciding how to wake his duckling. Finally, he settled on prodding him with the cane. That would neither be very unpleasant nor

so completely out of character Chase would become paranoid. Nudging the sleeping man, House smiled as the blonde tried to grab at the cane. He was still

asleep, but had obviously learned to attack cane-shaped objects before being attacked himself. "Cha-hase..." House sing-songed, and finally, the Australian

woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes and sat up slowly, grimacing at the shooting pain in his neck and staring at his employer accusingly. The diagnostician

ignored the look and smiled sweetly. "Work calls." he said.

"Now?"

"No, at a reasonable hour. As opposed to..." House glanced at his watch, "...half past ten. Get a grip."

Chase glared, and his boss raised an eyebrow. It isn't easy to appear threatening using so very few muscles, but House managed that task effortlessly. His

employee looked away before rolling his eyes and standing up stiffly.

"House?" Cameron was getting impatient.

"Get all the usual tests." her boss ordered, snapping the phone shut and going back into the room. Chase followed.

"Kid and her granny with the flu and feeling 'weird'."

"Both of them?"

"No. The kid. Keep up, will you?"

"Right. Any history?"

"Nothing interesting."

"So we've got nothing to go on?" The intensivist stopped himself from adding, 'What the hell did you wake me up for then?!'

"We will soon. Meanwhile, research." Chase looked utterly miserable – but turned on his laptop without a word.

"What am I looking for?" he asked, as soon as he'd logged himself in.

"Causes of weirdness."

"Right."

House dug out a medical journal and started reading it, not paying any attention to his surroundings, while Chase was struggling to make any sense of the

countless pieces of information he discovered on a subject that could justly be called 'broad'.

* * *

><p>When the team back at the hospital called again, House tossed his phone over to the duckling. Chase frowned.<p>

"Will you answer it?" his boss growled, and Chase did exactly that, shaking his head in surprise. "This is Chase."

"Chase?" Cameron replied, confusion obvious.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you answering House's phone?"

"Because he told me to."

"Oh. How's he treating you, has he gotten over himself yet?"

Chase glanced at his boss shyly. "Um...not exactly."

"He's listening, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Okay, sorry, should have thought of that. Well, anyway, the tests were negative. All of them."

The Australian turned to his boss, "Tests were negative." House shrugged, and Chase looked at him helplessly. "What now?" he asked.

"Depends."

"On?"

"On whether you did your research."

Chase sighed. "She could be...pregnant?" The intensivist didn't meet House's gaze, and before his boss could call him on that admittedly moronic suggestion,

Foreman beat him to it.

"She's nine."

"Right. Sorry. Um, House?"

The diagnostician raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I don't know what to to tell them."

House sighed in mock consternation. "Oh Robert, when will you ever learn? What do we do when we've done all the tests?"

"We...we run them again?"

"That's what you guys do. What do I do?"

"Throw your ball around?"

House glared. "I _wait_. For new developments."

Chase nodded and spoke into the phone, "Guys, House says to wait for new developments."

Cameron and Foreman didn't respond, and House sensed what their silence meant. "Tell them _yeah_, they have to stay." he instructed the Australian, and

Chase asked, "Guys?"

"Yes?" Foreman replied.

"He says you have to stay at the hospital."

"Great."

"Sorry..."

Cameron spoke again, "Don't feel sorry, it's not your fault. Good luck with House."

"Thanks." Chase snapped the phone shut and, after an impatient gesture by House, tossed it back to his boss. Afterwards, the Australian looked at the older

doctor.

"What?" House asked.

"You didn't let me in before."

"Didn't feel like having company."

"But you do now?"

"At the moment. Don't push it."

Chase nodded, recognizing the threat. He stood up and started in the direction of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"I was gonna take a shower..."

"Are you done?"

"No, but – well, if we're waiting I thought – "

"Fascinating." A pause.

"House?"

"Yeah."

"I – I just want you to know I'm sorry for what I said today. I guess I was...out of line."

"You're still researching." House's duckling blinked and bit his lip. Then, accepting his fate, he turned around and sat back down.

For a long time, the room was quiet, silence interrupted only by Chase's typing. House had not turned a page for the past fifteen minutes, choosing instead to

study his favourite wombat. The way he'd rounded his shoulders, bent over the keyboard. Strands of hair fell into his face and were brushed aside in

unconscious movement every couple of minutes. His neck, strangely pale in the glow of the bedside lamp. House was entranced, for once his mind had shut

down and let emotions take over. He didn't see Chase as his slightly irritating, docile lackey, but as a young man. A tired young man, as it was getting late and

the Australian, despite his naps during the day, had spent many hours running around on errands or staring at computer screens. House blinked, shaking his

head to clear it.

"You can stop."

The wide-eyed look he got from Chase spoke clearly – the intensivist was astonished at being released before complete exhaustion took over.

"Okay..."

"Go take your shower."


	23. Chapter 23

_Thank you Rei, sleeping Chase is always awesome. Pallada, your description was perfect, I didn't even try to beat that. I suddenly remembered 'House' is a medical show :D Thanks verlan, I won't rush it then. Zaffiro, thank you, that's reassuring. And thanks for suggesting the new lay-out, which I'll keep since everyone seems to like it. _

* * *

><p>20 minutes passed until the sound of running water faded. House had closed his eyes and was dozing off, when a meek voice called out, "House?"<p>

The diagnostician opened his eyes, waiting.

"I...kind of forgot to take a towel." House grinned, the embarrassment was more than obvious in his duckling's words.

"That's fine."

"What is?"

"I promise I won't be scarred for life by your naked body. Believe me, I've seen everything."

"What? I – I'm not..." Chase was reduced to sputtering, "I mean, I'm not coming out like this." House realised he could not stop grinning. "Looks like you're

staying in the bathroom then."

"But... House, will you please bring me a towel?"

"..."

"Please?"

"What will I get in return?"

"Uh, I could...take over your clinic hours?"

"You do those most of the time anyway."

"Yeah, but when Cuddy catches me she makes you do them yourself. And if I told her I was doing them voluntarily..."

"Excuse me?" House's voice had turned hard.

"What?" his employee asked, confused.

"Are you implying you tell Cuddy otherwise at the moment?"

Chase, in the bathroom, grimaced and faltered. "No."

"I thought so."

"House...please..."

"Fine. But you owe me."

"I know."

House heaved himself off the bed, grabbing his cane. He limped over to the towels still neatly folded in a cupboard and then on to the bathroom door. As he

banged his cane against it, a key turned in the lock. Chase's hand appeared. Smirking, the diagnostician held the towel just out of reach, watching his

intensivist groping blindly.

"House, will you..._stop playing about_!"

The older doctor snorted to hide his laugh, it wouldn't do for Chase to know he had the power to amuse his boss. But the duckling had sounded so desperate,

House could not control himself as he usually did.

Suddenly, Chase pulled his hand back. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut for a second before sticking his head out the door, involuntarily letting his

employer get a good look at his wet chest.

"You look like a drowned chicken." House said, trying to suppress his grin.

"Just..." while his duckling didn't _say_ 'piss off', he certainly _thought_ it. He lunged for the towel and House, still smirking, finally let go. The bathroom door

slammed shut, but Chase was still clearly audible: "You're such an..." again, the Australian stopped himself. House was leaning against the wall, laughing

helplessly at his wombat's indignation. He bit his fist to stop the other doctor from hearing, but at that moment, the intensivist wrenched open the door. He

pressed past his employer, dripping wet and fuming, holding the hard-earned towel tightly around his waist. His fists were balled and his face was pale, lips in

a thin line.

House grinned broadly. "I brought you your towel, didn't I?"

No answer. The diagnostician, determined to get a rise out of his fellow, kept talking. "Your parents raised you kind of weirdly. Instead of supporting the

cripple, you order him about."

Chase would have looked threatening if he wasn't...well, Chase. He had pulled on his boxers and was struggling with the t-shirt, hissing, "I've been running

around for you all day. Now will you just _shut up_ so we can go to sleep?"

House smiled. "No sleeping yet. I want a grilled cheese sandwich."

* * *

><p>Chase was lost for words, just shaking his head disbelievingly. Finally, towelling off his hair, he scoffed. "I am so not getting you a cheese sandwich now."<p>

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Do it."

"No."

"Do it, or you're fired." House wasn't joking any more. No matter how cute the wombat looked..._cute_?! Anyway. He couldn't let his most faithful minion get away

with this.

Chase had heard this same threat numerous times, but nevertheless, his lip twitched nervously. He didn't doubt his boss would follow through, and over a

grilled cheese sandwich...that wasn't worth it. The Australian made a last attempt at reasoning,

"You haven't even touched your Reuben's."

"Did I say I wanted a Reuben's?"

Chase sighed.

"_Fine_. But I'm calling room service." At House's glare, he explained,

"I'll tip them, don't worry."

"No. Waste of money. You're going."

Chase sighed impatiently. "If I was dressed, I would. But I didn't expect you to crave grilled cheese sandwiches at one a.m."

House was unimpressed, "You can argue with me for another couple of minutes – doesn't change the fact that I want you to get that sandwich. Now." Chase

studied his boss and knew he wouldn't budge, so he grabbed a pair of trousers and pulled them over his boxer shorts.

"There's a good chance _I_ will spit in your food." He mumbled angrily, more to himself. House, as usual, heard everything he wasn't supposed to hear.

"Pardon?!"

The intensivist looked up, expression slightly worried. "I was joking."

"Yeah, sure. Believe me – you try anything, I'll know. And I'll make you suffer." With anyone else, this threat would have sounded empty, but House managed

to make his lackey swallow.

"Right." he said simply, backing out of the room. He was glad to arrive in the hallway.

* * *

><p>House used the time Chase spent hunting for his sandwich thinking about that very same duckling. He had to make sure to treat him as an employee, nothing<p>

else. House wondered why he was even reminding himself of that fact but brushed the thought aside. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Right? When

the Australian knocked, politely waiting to be invited inside again, House started.

"Yeah." he called, and his employee appeared, carrying a tray. He set it down beside his boss.

"You're welcome."

House ignored him, taking a bite of his sandwich. The Australian studied him for a while, before sighing.

"Can we go to sleep now?"

"You can."

"Really?" Chase gazed at his employer gratefully, looking quite a bit like a lovesick puppy.

"Yeah. Me, I'm watching Barney."

"Barney."

"You know, purple, loveable dinosaur. Likes sunshine and hugs and make-believe. He's my role-model."

"Sounds like it."

"Role-models are supposed to be different from you. Because you're striving to be like them."

"So...you're striving to be loveable."

"Loveable I am already. I'm working on the purple thing."

"Whatever."

"Hey! You're being condescending."

"Hm."

"Doesn't suit you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to bed now."

"That is so not Barney. If you're gonna be mean, I'll make you finish your research first." Chase looked at his boss pleadingly.

"I'm really tired. Sorry..."

"Okay then." House turned on the television, flipping to a children's channel. Chase went to brush his teeth and returned, just slightly surprised at the fact that

his boss knew when a purple dinosaur would be on-screen in the middle of the night. He stared at the television for a few seconds, shaking his head. "There

are like nine kids there."

"So?"

"They appear to come from nine different countries."

"That's 'cause we're all friends. Be glad our kids are taught early. Otherwise, people might make fun of your accent at work."

"You do that. Constantly."

"Well. Yeah. But imagine if I denied your heritage just to annoy you...I could insist you're British, for example."

"God forbid." Chase replied drily, and his boss smiled, careful to turn his face away. "Go to bed already."


	24. Chapter 24

_So do I, Rei, I just love him being happy! Thank you very much espogio, I hope you did like the second part...you're welcome zaffiro, I enjoyed writing it. Almost as _

_much as this new one. Thank you Pallada. I think so too, but the story skips ahead a bit. They are, verlan, definitely! :]  
><em>

* * *

><p>Chase had fallen asleep to the soothing tones of "I love you – you love me...", and was more than slightly surprised when he woke up to that exact same<p>

song. Slowly, the intensivist sat up.

"Did you stay up all night?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing his eyes.

House looked at his employee. "What's wrong with you?"

Chase blinked at the unusual question. Unusual for House, at least. "Nothing."

"You're sick."

"No I'm not. I just woke up, that's how people sound when they're tired."

"You're tired."

"Of course I am."

"'Cause you're sick."

"_No_. Because I just woke up."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Giving up, the younger doctor let himself fall back into bed. "What's the time?" he mumbled.

"Quarter to nine."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Chase sat up again, slowly setting his feet on the carpet. He rose, and scrunched his eyes shut at his protesting head.

"Get back into bed." he heard his boss order gruffly.

"I'm. Not. Sick."

"You're flushed. You've got a headache and your throat's hurting. Yeah, it's not life-threatening, but I don't want you whining tomorrow when you're supposed

to be learning eagerly."

The Australian glared, and House narrowed his eyes. "I mean it. Back to bed."

"I'm hungry."

"Call room service."

"You don't want to tip them, _remember_?"

"That's okay..." House paused, and then added, smirking, "...'cause you will."

Chase sighed, shook his head, and reluctantly climbed back into his bed, picking up the phone and punching in numbers angrily.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, what can I do for you today?" a voice said, much too perky for the time of day.<p>

"This is Dr. Chase, I'd like to have some breakfast sent up."

The intensivist proceeded to order their breakfast, interrupted frequently by House's additional demands. When he'd finally hung up, he leant back, exhausted,

and was immediately shaken by his coughs. "Who the hell eats candied almonds for breakfast?" he croaked, when he'd recovered.

House shrugged. "I like them with a side of Vicodin."

Chase just shook his head in despair.

The pair had eaten, and House had told his employee to take another nap, which the younger man did, grudgingly but secretly relieved. When he woke up

again, he looked even worse than before. He'd been groaning and coughing in his sleep and found House studying him. The diagnostician stood up silently,

rooting around in his bedside drawer. Turning around, he presented a pill to his duckling, pointing to a glass of water on the Australian's night-stand. Chase

blinked, trying to wake up, and House tried his best to seem reassuring and calm. "Sh. Don't talk. Just drink this." Relaxing, his lackey accepted the glass and

swallowed the pill.

* * *

><p>Two hours passed, during which House watched his wombat sleep fitfully at first, but almost peacefully as time went by. Suddenly, the intensivist's eyes<p>

snapped open. "House!" he said, smiling happily.

"Yeah?"

Chase grinned. "Me and House, we're friends now." He beamed at the older doctor. "Can we make cake?"

The diagnostician stared, dumbfounded for once. "What the hell?"

"Cake. We need eggs and sugar."

"Chase, we're not making cake."

The intensivist looked completely crestfallen, but swallowed bravely. To himself, he muttered, "House is mean sometimes, because...because he's smarter than

me. But that's okay." He blinked and looked up to his boss again, "I love you anyway!" he confided.

"I – " it wasn't often Gregory House was lost for words, but this was such an occasion. "Snap out of it, Chase!"

The Australian giggled. "Snap. Snappy. I had a crocodile called Snappy. His teeth were soft." he smiled at the other man's look of utter astonishment and

explained, "He wasn't real."

House glared. "Will you just...cut it out. Cut it out, or you're fired."

Chase looked at his employer out of big, frightened eyes. "Fire's dangerous."

* * *

><p>The room was silent for a while, as House tried to understand why a single Vicodin had such an effect on his lackey. Finally, he realized it wouldn't make sense<p>

to fight obvious facts. He'd just have to deal with this weird version of his mellow Australian until the pill's effect wore off.

Sighing, the diagnostician faced his minion again. He wasn't used to dealing with situations such as these. At the hospital, every task involving taxing patients

such as children or _nut-jobs_ – which he decided Chase was, for the time being – was immediately delegated to his team. Which was not a possibility at the

moment.

"Yeah, fire's dangerous. But there's no fire here, okay?" he said to the worried intensivist.

Chase relaxed. "That's good."

"Yeah. Maybe you want to take a little nap now?"

"_No_. No nap! I wanna make cake."

"We can't. There's no oven here."

"Oh. We can play, then."

"No way."

"But...we're friends!"

"No we're not." As soon as he said it, House knew he'd made a mistake. His duckling became teary-eyed, trying to compose himself. "Oh."

"Um. I'm sorry. Of course we are."

The Australian nodded understandingly. "You were confused, right? You know Big Bird?"

"Yes...!"

"He's yellow. And he's got feather's. That's why he's a bird."

"No, actually. You probably mean to say, 'He has feathers due to the fact that he's a bird.'"

Chase blinked, trying to follow House's logic, but this task was hard enough when he wasn't...well, stoned. And proved impossible now. Instead, the intensivist

started bouncing on the bed.

* * *

><p>"Stop that."<p>

"But I'm bored."

House glared. He missed regular Chase, who was _much_ easier to control. Reluctantly, House decided if his employee was acting like a little kid, he'd have to

treat him like one.

"Would you like a lollipop?" the diagnostician asked, barely hiding his disgust at that phrase. Nevertheless, his duckling stopped bouncing and grinned. "Yeah!"

he said enthusiastically.

"You have to be good then."

"Okay." the young doctor promised, but his eyes still darted around restlessly. "Or we could build a castle!"

"We're not building a castle."

"With knights and I'm the king."

House just looked at him.

"Or you could be the king?"

"No."

Chase screwed up his face in thought. "I know!" he exclaimed suddenly, jumping up and on the other man's bed. "We can go outside!"

"You're sick. You need to stay in bed." House sighed at his employee's questioning eyes. "_Your_ bed."

The Australian didn't move, and his boss used his most intimidating tone. "Get. Back. In. Bed."

Regular Chase would have fled in a heartbeat, but this newer version simply pouted at first. Still, he made his way back to his own bed, albeit as slowly as

possible.

Despite himself, House smiled. A pouting wombat was just too much. Not cute though. Definitely not cute. The diagnostician unwrapped a lollipop from the vast

supply in his coat pocket and handed it to his intensivist, who sat on the bed, beaming.

"You know what, House?"

"What...?"

"I _love_ you!"

House groaned.

* * *

><p><em>Tell me what you think about this chapter, guys - because I'm not sure whether I should continue with Chase in this state of mind, or make him "recover" <em>

_immediately. So what I'm asking is, would you like regular Chase back right away, or have him stay like he is at the moment for one more chapter?_


	25. Chapter 25

_Sorry guys, I know, that was quite a while. Somehow stoned Chase – while incredibly cute – is not that easy to write about. Which is why he's back to normal after _

_this chapter, sorry. Thank you so much for all your reviews! There will be at least five more chapters, Guest. Zaffiro, Pallada, Elisabeth Fox, Rei and verlan, I agree, _

_drugged Chase is perfect. I know it's been done before, by the way, but I couldn't resist. I'm glad to hear you like the story, espogio! I'll try to be faster with the next _

_chapter..._

* * *

><p>The lollipop had shut Chase up for a while, but the silence didn't last long.<p>

"Do you think fish can learn to hold their breath?"

"Why is this happening to me?"

"What is?"

"You're talking again."

"You always tell me to join in..."

"When we're diagnosing patients. And you're not in a state to treat anyone right now."

"I could!"

"No you couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because you're stoned."

Chase grinned. "Haha. Cameron was stoned. We had sex."

House shuddered. "I know."

"First, she told me she wanted a drink. But she didn't. She was home. So she opened the door, and I was confu – "

"Stop. Talking."

The Australian sighed, and went quiet, gazing at his boss like a shy toddler. He put his lollipop back in his mouth and started sucking it again.

"Once I was sad because of you, House." The intensivist told his boss sombrely, between licks.

"Horrifying."

"You know, when you said I had to clean the cupboards. And when you wouldn't let me call Janie.

And the time I had to write about magazines, that was boring. And once..." Chase fell silent,

and then looked at his boss. "You make me sad a lot."

House shrugged. "Tough."

"It's not nice to make people sad..."

"I'm not nice."

"Yes you are." the Australian gazed at the ceiling dreamily, "...you're the the nicest...why are there colours floating everywhere?"

"The angels left those behind."

"Ah...yeah, okay. You don't like Janie."

"No I don't."

"Why?"

"She reminds me of a toad."

Chase threw his head back, laughing. "Ha ha, Janie looks like a toad. I'm a doctor."

"I know."

"That's why I'm a nice person. 'Cause I help people."

"Good boy."

House's employee stared. "You've never said that before."

"I don't feel the urge too, normally."

"You don't think I'm good?" Chase's eyes were soft and vulnerable, and the older doctor couldn't bear to crush him.

"You're good." he said, quietly, as if he didn't quite want the other man to hear.

"Thank you, so are you."

"..."

"Say 'thank you'!"

"I did. In my head."

"Oh, that's okay then. What's that noise?" The intensivist had his head cocked, listening to House's phone chirping. The diagnostician grabbed it and put it on

speaker. "What's up?" he inquired.

* * *

><p>Foreman answered. "House. She's having trouble speaking."<p>

Before his boss could answer, Chase cut in excitedly. "Foreman!" he yelled, "Greg likes me now! He gave me a lollipop. I'm sorry you didn't get any, maybe you

will when we're back!"

House stared, and only snapped out of his confusion when he heard his neurologist chuckle lightly. "Foreman, if you know what's good for you, you'll shut up."

the diagnostician turned to the younger doctor, "I'll deal with _you_ in a minute." then, to his absent employee, he added, "Give me something."

The smirk was clearly audible in the neurologist's voice, as he drawled, "Yeah...in a minute. Right after you tell me what you did to Chase."

"_Foreman_..."

"Come on, tell me!"

"No, actually. You'll give me possible diagnoses right now – because if you don't, I'll make sure you're on nights until I get bored watching you fight sleep-

deprivation. And that could be a while."

Foreman hesitated, but decided not to risk that.

"Her facial nerves are weakened. Sarcoidosis?"

"Not again."

The neurologist rolled his eyes. "It fits..." he muttered sullenly. "How about a tumour? Neoplasm of the parotid gland? Cholesteatoma?"

"Cholesteatoma would have turned up in her family history. You did say you'd _taken_ a history, didn't you?"

"Yes, House..." Foreman was just barely hiding his irritation.

Chase had been playing with his toes, pressing on each of them and making different noises as if his feet consisted of musical instruments. Now, he'd grown

bored with that. He got up and went over to House, standing in front of him patiently. The diagnostician groaned inwardly. "_What is it, Chase_?" he snarled, and

the Australian backed away slightly. "Can I go outside now?"

"No."

"But..."

I said _no_."

This time, the young doctor's eyes actually filled with tears. "Now you're mean again..."

House ignored him. "Do an MRI." he ordered, before adding, grudgingly, "And check for sarcoidosis."

His employee was about to hang up, when the department head thought of something else, "Where's Cameron?"

"She's watching the kid."

House nodded, "Keep someone with her at all times."

"Right."

The call was disconnected, and House sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Chase."

The intensivist was lying on the floor, curled up, facing the wall.

"Chase..."

"I'm not talking to you..."

"Well that's relaxing."

"...because you were mean _again_."

House shook his head and popped a Vicodin.

"What are you eating?"

"Candy."

"Oooh. Yummy. I want one!"

The diagnostician held the bottle of pills behind his back protectively, "No way. You've had enough!"

"That's not fair!"

"'That's not fair'. You just fill every cliché in the book, don't you?"

"What's a _cliché_?"

"Oh, shut up."

Before even having had the chance to voice his indignation, the Australian yawned. "I'm tired." He stretched out on the bed, already closing his eyes while

holding out his lollipop for House to take. Which the diagnostician did, disgustedly. At the sight of his duckling, though, the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Goodnight..."

Chase giggled sleepily. "'s' not night..." he mumbled, and was asleep.

* * *

><p>When he woke up again, much later, the young man blinked at his boss out of tired eyes.<p>

"Where...why? What...what happened?"

House smirked. "Yeah...that's what coming off a high's like. Sorry, it'll be a while before you're 100% again. If you ever were."

"I'm – high?"

"You were."

"But..."

"I gave you a Vicodin."

"House! That's a prescription drug. You – are you...?"

"Irresponsible, dangerous and slightly crazy? Always. You're feeling better, aren't you?"

"Well. Yeah. But..."

"Oh, come on. It's done. Suck it up."

Chase shrugged. "I...I do feel better. But I just needed some rest, I think."

"Which you weren't getting since you were coughing too much."

"I guess... Well. Thanks."

"Any time. Well, not literally. I don't share pills. But if I did, you'd definitely get some!"

The intensivist shook his head and stretched. "I think I'll go take a walk."

"No way. You're resting today. Doctor's orders."

"Meaning, you don't want me to leave."

House raised an eyebrow. "Well, I _am_ your doctor. And your boss."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll stay. May I have my laptop?"

"What for?"

Chase looked puzzled. "Um, I wanted to write to Janie."

The diagnostician's eyes narrowed, and his face showed no emotion at all.

"House?"

"Find out what environmental factors could cause facial paralysis."

"But I was going to write to – "

"You do still work for me. Meaning I don't care what you were going to do. Now you're researching."

The Australian looked at his boss, shocked and hurt. House didn't meet his gaze, and slowly, painfully slow, Chase got started.


	26. Chapter 26

_Very much so, Rei! Pallada, you're welcome, I enjoyed it too. Not yet, verlan. Assioma, thank you, that's sweet! Soon, zaffiro, but I'll miss him too. And lastly, Elisabeth _

_Fox: Here it is! A warning, though: I posted it without reading it through once more, because I'm tired and didn't want to make you wait any longer. Hope it's okay! :]_

* * *

><p>House didn't speak to Chase again for nearly two hours, and the intensivist was smart enough to work steadily during that time...without letting himself be<p>

distracted by the longing to throw contemptuous looks at his boss. When he felt something collide with his head, Chase grimaced in pain before looking up.

House was smirking again, and his minion was having a hard time suppressing his scowl. "I'm right here. You could have just used words to get my attention."

"Not as much fun."

"Right. What do you need?"

"Dinner. You are hereby declared healthy enough to leave the room."

"Thank God."

"How about giving the guy who actually cured you at least _some_ credit?"

Chase smiled despite himself. He was relieved his boss seemed to have let go their previous argument. "Thank you, House."

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>It was almost half an hour later when the pair finally left their room, and House's good mood was ruined. Both of these aspects were caused by the extensive<p>

"cleansing ritual", as House had christened it, which Chase had now finally completed. The Australian trudged after his angry boss silently, trying not to draw

any attention to himself.

* * *

><p>In the dining room, House steered towards a table at the far end of the room and gestured at the chair facing away from the buffet. Basically, all anybody<p>

sitting there could look at would be the wall and the people dining at his table. Chase sat down without a word, and got up again when House snarled, "I want

pizza." Obediently, he hurried off, returning with his own meal and a plate of pizza slices shortly after. He had also provided drinks, satisfying House for once.

They ate, without speaking, until the diagnostician said, "No flirting today?"

His companion blinked. "I...haven't been flirting."

"Right. You just had something in your eye." House managed not to sound bitter, although this proved difficult. Chase, meanwhile, was utterly confused.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure."

"House..."

"You were winking yesterday. _Remember_?"

The Australian nodded, understanding. "Ah. That. Yeah, but I was winking at a little girl." He blushed slightly, expecting another comment about his affinity to

young cancer patients. To his surprise, for once there was no such remark. Instead, House stared for a while. He knew if Chase was lying, he'd start squirming

at the direct look. On the other hand, the blonde always squirmed eventually – from sheer nervousness – when his employer used that tactic.

Sure enough, Chase dropped his gaze and began fidgeting. The older doctor sighed. "You really did wink at a little girl, didn't you?"

"Yeah!"

"Go get dessert."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, you're not going?"<p>

"Exactly what I said. I have absolutely no interest in those lectures, and since Cuddy can't find out..."

The two men were back in their room, and discussing the next day. Chase shook his head and mumbled, "_I_ could tell her, you know?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

The younger doctor's lip twitched. "I just...I won't. You know that."

"Sure hope so."

The diagnostician's phone started vibrating, and was picked up.

"Speak."

"Uh...this is Cameron. Foreman's here too. And the test for sarcoidosis was negative."

Foreman added, "As well as the MRI. Which rules out tumours."

"Seriously? There are no tumours, so you're ruling them out? Daring."

Cameron interrupted the pending argument: "House, is Chase all right? I hear he's been acting weird during the last differential?"

Her boss gestured for Chase to talk, and the Australian complied. "Hey guys. I'm good."

"Well, Foreman said you were behaving really weird..."

House rolled his eyes. "We have a patient, Cameron. He said he's fine. Drop it."

"But if Chase isn't feeling well, he should – "

"Shut up."

"..."

"Thank you. So, _Foreman_, how come little Emily's stopped smiling?"

"Her name is Violet."

"Violet, Shmyolet. Ideas."

"Bell's?"

"No, moron. You tested for Herpes."

Chase cleared his throat, trying to get his employer's attention.

"Just say it."

"What about a supranuclear lesion?"

"Lacunar infarct. Nice. Foreman, Cameron, confirm." House hung up. "What made you think of that?"

His fellow stared, wide-eyed. Normally House couldn't care less about his employees' tales.

"I guess I remembered the patient we had a while back. Middle-aged, tumour in his ear canal, but when we removed it he didn't get better...remember?"

Blank stare. "No."

"You accused his daughter of sleeping with her maths tutor. Made them all freak out."

"Ah...yeah." House smiled, lost in happy memories.

* * *

><p>Chase decided to seize the window of opportunity, since Janie had to be getting worried. He hadn't even managed to send her a text message.<p>

"Do you need me to do anything?"

House turned on the TV. "You could find that lesion. Oh wait. You can't. 'Cause you're here."

"Right. Well, any research?"

"No."

The intensivist smiled, going to pick up his laptop from the window-sill, when House's voice stopped him.

"Have you looked at the list of definitions?"

Shaking his head, Chase turned. "What list?"

"Cuddy gave me a list to work through, guess she thinks them lawyers will use lots of big words we don't know."

"Well, I never got it."

"In my backpack."

Sighing, the Australian went to fetch the list of legal terms. He dug around in the older doctor's stuff for a while before pulling out a folded piece of paper. When

he straightened it out, the intensivist groaned. It contained an_ extremely_ long list of words, accompanied by their definitions.

House watched Chase's face turn upwards, clearly begging. "Do I have to?"

"Sorry..." the diagnostician smirked, "...Cuddy's orders."

For a long time, all that could be heard in the room was the television, occasionally inter-cut by murmurs of "General assumption...can be declared

merchantable...in pari delicto..." House had laid back comfortably and was thinking about the day he'd had. Chase had said he loved him. Sure...he'd been

stoned – but couldn't that be an indication his wombat just wasn't allowing his true feelings to surface normally? The diagnostician screwed up his courage.

"Do you remember what you said when you were stoned?"

The younger doctor looked up, surprised and annoyed at being interrupted. "Not really."

"You got weirdly hung up on lollipops and manners."

"Fascinating...can I...?!" Chase gestured at the list lying in front of him.

"Not right now. You also said – "

"_What_? That you were the kindest boss imaginable? That I'd built a sex lab in my basement and was planning to take over the department, turning it into a

clinic for kittens?" The Australian sighed, trying to compose himself. "I really want to get this done, House."

His employer's eyes turned hard. "When you are, I'll be glad to quiz you. Before you start organizing all the data Cameron will have collected on our patient's

family." Chase gaped, and his boss shrugged. "She goes back five generations. And always sends me annoying e-mails in full detail when I'm not there."


	27. Chapter 27

_Yes, verlan, he definitely is. Thank you, Elisabeth Fox! Zaffiro, that part I liked a lot, too. Rei, yeah, if he would only let Chase know ;) We certainly are, Pallada, very _

_close. It'll all draw to a close in the next few chapters. And you'll find the case wasn't closed yet, but Chase did at least get a rare acknowledgement from House..._

* * *

><p>It took a lot of willpower for Chase not to strangle House right then and there, but he succeeded. Not wanting to give his boss the satisfaction of winning yet<p>

another argument, the duckling wordlessly resigned himself to a night of work – again – and bowed his head over the sheet of legal terms.

When he felt he couldn't bear to read it all over yet another time, the intensivist looked up. "I'm finished."

"Well done."

"When you said you'd quiz me..."

"...I meant exactly that. Give."

Rolling his eyes, Chase handed the list to his employer. House scanned it for a couple of seconds before nodding. "Right... 'culpable'?"

"Um...deserving of blame or censure due to being wrong, improper, or injurious?"

"Are you asking or answering?"

"Answering."

"Didn't sound like it."

"Oh, come on. _Fine_. Deserving of blame or censure due to being wrong, improper or injurious."

"Thank you."

"..."

"'Due diligence'."

"The...the care that a reasonable person exercises to...avoid damage to other persons or their property."

"Harm."

"What?"

"'Harm'. You said 'damage'"

"Yeah...somehow, I doubt anyone will care."

"I care. Try again."

"Are you serious?"

"Try. Again."

Chase glared, but muttered, "The care that a reasonable person exercises to avoid _harm_ to other persons or their property."

"Stop glaring."

The Australian glanced at his boss and ran his tongue across his lips. "Sorry."

"I'm sure you are. 'Liability'."

* * *

><p>Before Chase could answer, a shrill buzzing interrupted. The Australian jumped up and started over to the desk, where he'd left his cellphone to charge. He<p>

stopped in his tracks when House barked, "What the_ hell _do you think you're doing?"

"My – my phone..."

"Yeah, I deduced your cell was ringing. Get back here!"

Chase trotted back reluctantly and sat down.

"Liability."

"Obligations...obligations under law arising from civil actions or under contract."

House was sorting his papers to find another question to ask, when the younger doctor's phone rang again – buzzing angrily like a trapped bug. The intensivist

stared at his boss, asking for permission to get up, and received a look in response that told him if he dared, he'd be dead.

The evening went on with House quizzing his duckling mercilessly until the he was very close to word-perfect. Not to mention utterly exhausted. Even though

the cocktail of rest and opiates had certainly worked wonders, Chase had started coughing again. In addition, he was desperate to read the numerous text

messages he'd received. Which did not mean House was planning on letting him sleep any time soon, never mind have a look at those texts.

"That'll do. Get started on the history."

Chase's look was murderous.

"What?" the diagnostician raised an eyebrow, daring his employee. "You had other plans for tonight?"

"No." the Australian pressed out between clenched teeth.

"Get to work then." House watched as Chase gathered the index cards he'd used to scribble down the definitions his boss had deemed exceedingly relevant,

before going to fetch his laptop. Unfortunately for the intensivist, the older doctor also noticed the longing look he'd threw at his phone when passing.

"Gimme that."

"What, the phone?"

"Don't play dumb. Come on." Chase glared, mouth flattened and not moving.

"Keep glaring and I'll make you – " But no-one should ever know how that threat would be finished, because now, House's phone rang. The diagnostician

smirked as he answered, letting his duckling know the rule of restricted telecommunication did _not_ apply to himself. As if anyone had thought so.

* * *

><p>"Yeah?"<p>

"House. It's me. What are you doing?"

"Studying... my mom made me."

"Right. Your fellows tell tales of worrying Australians."

"Cameron?"

"Yeah."

"She is _so_ irritating. Chase is fine."

"Put him on the phone."

"What, he your new best buddy now?"

"You want me to inform Cuddy? Because her call won't be as pleasant."

"James...what happened to our love?"

"Oh, _fine_." House shoved the phone at his employee, "Talk."

Chase took it hesitantly. "Hello?"

"Chase. This is Wilson. How are you?"

"I'm...fine?"

"Come on. What did House do to you?"

The Australian glanced at his boss nervously. "Nothing."

"He's treating you okay?"

"Yes, Dr. Wilson."

"I'm not on speakerphone, am I?"

"No."

"Well, obviously, you're not telling me the whole truth. Chase. Do you need any help?"

The intensivist pressed his lips together. Wilson was just so damn nice. He'd definitely chosen the wrong boss. "Thank you, I'm fine, really."

"Okay then. Call me if anything comes up. And pass me House, will you?"

Chase did as he was asked, and while House demanded news on his patient, the intensivist crept over to the desk and seized his phone, carrying it over to his

boss. Mutely, he held it out for the older doctor to take.

"Right, have my team call me then."

"Since when am I your errand boy?"

"Since always. D'you want that patient on your conscience?"

"Fine, fine. I'll tell them. And House – "

"Yeah?"

"Be nice to Chase!"

"Always!" the diagnostician disconnected the call and finally accepted the object Chase was still holding. "Came to your senses?"

"I guess."

"What did Wilson say?" The intensivist grimaced. This was going to be tough.

"Um. He said...he wanted to know how I was."

"And you said...?"

"Fine. And that I didn't need any help."

"Help. Why should you need help?"

"I...well. That's what he said."

"Why?" Chase realised if he wanted House satisfied, he'd have to tell him the truth.

"Help when dealing with you. He...he asked whether you were treating me okay."

"This is how you define 'okay'?"

"Um. Well, I don't know. But anyway, it wasn't any of Wilson business."

"Or rather, you didn't want me mad at you for telling him. Coward." The Australian shrugged, not able to deny that. House stared at his duckling until his phone

rang again. He glanced at the screen before snapping it open.

* * *

><p>"Well?"<p>

Cameron sounded surprised. "Well, what?"

"Well, how's the patient..."

"She's...not that good. And imaging showed no traces of a stroke. No traces of anything, actually. We were just about to call you when Wilson told us to. We've

also had...some other problems."

"Like what?"

Foreman took it upon himself to reply. "Remember we told you the kid came with her granny?"

"Get to the point."

"Violet's parents aren't flying in until tomorrow, and Granny doesn't hear very well. We've tried making sure she understood, but – well, she didn't. She swears

we told her the kid was gonna be fine by now, says we're responsible for the paralysis."

"So? Let her rant."

"She's threatening to sue."

"Great. She sues you guys, I bet Chase get put in charge this time. And we all know that'll be the end of everything." House said in mock anger, smirking at his

annoyed intensivist.

* * *

><p>Cameron sounded shocked. "House. If the department gets sued again, after such a short time, the board will be even more suspicious."<p>

"Well, maybe Cuddy will realise it's dangerous to leave you kids alone. I'm not digging this law event thingy at all."

Foreman scoffed. "If you were here, you'd probably storm into the patients room accusing grandma of deliberately blocking her ears or something."

Chase snorted quietly, hiding a smile behind his hands so he wouldn't be pounced on. But House had spaced out entirely.

A couple of minutes passed, interrupted only by Chase telling his colleagues to shut up in a voice that told them their boss was thinking and would not take

kindly to being disturbed. Finally, he raised his head. "Did a hearing test on the kid?"

Cameron's frown was audible. "No...why? There's no indication of hearing loss."

"None that you've noticed. On the other hand, if everyone's shouting to make granny hear..."

Foreman sounded intrigued. "You're thinking she has a simple ear infection?"

Chase cut in. "It's hardly simple. If she has chronic otitis media so advanced that it's spread to the canalis facialis, there should be discharge. And a lot of pain."

"Should be, but it could just be an uncommon presentation. Check it."

Foreman nodded. "We'll get back to you."


	28. Chapter 28

_A very short chapter, guys – sorry, but at least short chapters mean there's more of them until we're done! Thank you so much, Pallada...I really enjoy(ed) writing it _

_too. Sorry, Rei, I know, I'm sad too. Guest, wow, I didn't even plan on that, but you're right! Thanks verlan, but I guess it'll be three more or something. Slowly paced _

_;) _

* * *

><p>For the next twenty minutes, Chase worked on the charts sent by Cameron while House mused, still thinking about the case. Suddenly, he got up and left the<p>

room without a word. Chase narrowed his eyes at the closing door before deciding the department head would be completing his usual laps while

contemplating the case. He blinked...and then seized the moment, going online at last.

* * *

><p>When House returned about ten minutes later, his duckling instantly closed the window he'd been using to talk to Janie. What he hadn't thought of, though,<p>

was the reflection in the giant mirror right behind him.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You just closed a chat window." Chase didn't even have the energy to try defending himself any more. He simply stared at his flowered bedspread gloomily,

nodding.

Before House could continue speaking, his familiar ringtone sounded.

"Yeah."

"She has trouble hearing."

"Go treat her then. Cameron, you can leave – Foreman, stay to observe."

Foreman was irritated. "What, all night?"

"Hot date?"

"No. But – "

Cameron sighed. "It's fine. _I'll_ stay."

"No you won't. Suck it up, Foreman. And if it makes you feel better, Dr. Chase isn't going to get any sleep either."

Chase grimaced nervously and back at the hospital, his female colleague looked decidedly disapproving. "House, if he was sick, you need to let him rest!"

"Well, I'm not having him train for the marathon. He's sitting comfortably on his bed, organizing all those files you sent me."

"It's nearly midnight."

"So?"

"So..." Cameron gave in. "Never mind."

"That's my girl."

* * *

><p>House hung up, glancing at his intensivist...and just for a split second, their eyes met. Chase frowned. The diagnostician looked...sad. Seconds passed, but to<p>

both doctors, they felt like hours.

The Australian screwed up his courage, timidly asking, "House?"

"What?" his boss snarled.

Chase shook his head, biting his lip and shifting his gaze to the computer screen. "Nothing. I'll...I'll get back to work." The desperate look in the duckling's eyes

was too much for House. Finally, he cracked. "I'm sorry."

The younger doctor gaped, sure he'd misheard. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. Don't get excited, I have said it before."

"Not to me..." Chase mumbled, and, at his employer's look, quickly added, "What are you sorry about?"

House shrugged. "I've been making you miserable."

"You...don't normally mind that." The Australian was clearly worried he'd gone too far already, but his employer showed no sign of having had enough. He did

seem to be struggling with something though, and didn't answer for a while. House was trying hard to convince himself it would be alright to give his duckling

an honest answer for once. He didn't normally allow himself to be drawn into conversations such as this one appeared to turn into, but...somehow, now, he

didn't feel like deflecting. Of course, the knowledge that he could have Chase trembling in the corner as soon as he got annoying helped. There was just

nothing threatening about the wombat. Hell, if he was told not to repeat the conversation, he would probably even keep his mouth shut about it... House took

a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the wall in front of him.

* * *

><p>"I do mind. I always do."<p>

The intensivist had been dreading his employer's reply, but now, he was stunned. He wondered whether he was simply being toyed with, but that seemed

unlikely, somehow. For once.

"Are you serious?"

House nodded. "I..." Chase's eyes got wide as he realised his genius of a boss was at a loss for words. That had to be a first. Rubbing his temples, the

diagnostician continued, "It's not that I like tormenting you." He waited for a response, and, at the lack thereof, looked at his minion. "That's rendered you

speechless?"

"Well...yeah."

"It's true though."

"But..."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Say it."

"I'd...rather not..."

"I won't get mad. Whatever you say. And you know I will if you refuse to answer."

Chase opened his mouth to reply and then closed it, before opening it again. Miserably, he muttered, "You do seem happy when you're making us suffer..."

House suppressed a grin. "I am, normally – sue me."

His employee sighed. "That's what I thought. But you just said..."

"That I didn't enjoy tormenting _you_. And I don't. Not lately."

The younger doctor blinked and bravely asked, "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Well, how did – "

"Shut up."

House had said those two words almost gently, but Chase was silenced at once, clenching his fists and refusing eye contact, not daring to move. He glanced at

House for instructions on what to do next. The diagnostician didn't look vulnerable any more. Instead, he seemed devoid of emotions.

"You have work to do."

* * *

><p>Chase has accepted the interruption of the first real conversation he'd ever had with his boss, but that didn't mean he'd stopped thinking about what had been<p>

said. The revelation that House felt differently towards him than to his other employees was enough to stun the Australian...he had not been made to feel

special many times before. After working for about half an hour, the glances Chase threw at his employer became more frequent. Soon, House noticed. "What

are you looking at?" The intensivist turned his head away quickly. "Nothing. Sorry."

The older doctor stared at his wombat for a while, letting him know he wasn't in the mood to play games, and Chase got the message. He even managed to

miss the moment his observation ended – simply because House had fallen asleep.

* * *

><p>When all the information concerning their last patient was included in a single file, complete with standardized hospital logo and headings for all the procedures<p>

done, Chase let his head drop tiredly. He jerked it right back up, though, remembering he was still in the same room as his boss. When he glanced at House to

find out whether he could sleep finally or would be assigned another task, the intensivist grinned in relief. The department head was fast asleep, snuggled into

his pillow. Chase shut his laptop and yawned. He studied his deeply breathing employer, taking advantage of the rare moment doing so would not earn him a

snide comment. Suddenly, Chase found he was standing up and creeping over to House's bed. He knelt down and felt like saying a prayer...but didn't. Instead,

he let his hand crawl over the sheets and stroked the other man's fingers lightly. Even in his sleep, House didn't seem relaxed. Chase ran his tongue across his

lips and slowly, carefully, crawled onto the mattress. He lay down, facing his boss, smelling the soap he'd used and closed his eyes. Even though he didn't

know why, he felt...content.


	29. Chapter 29

_Well, Rei, a little of everything will happen in this chapter. After you posted your review, I updated chapter 28 one more time, so you may want to go back and read the _

_last couple of paragraphs... He will, verlan! I bet he is, Pallada, and assioma, I know, he definitely is. I wasn't expecting Chase's move myself, zaffiro, but suddenly it _

_seemed like something he had to do :)_

* * *

><p>Chase was woken by a ray of sun falling through a gap in the curtains. He squinted into the light, trying to see, but when he did, he wished he'd kept his eyes<p>

closed. He was in the same bed as his _employer_. Facing him. _Inches_ from the man. Chase lay absolutely still, fear written on his face.

* * *

><p>He wouldn't have thought it possible for the situation to get any worse, but at that moment, there was a crash right outside the door, as a cleaner banged his<p>

tray into a potted plant. And in front of the Australian, gleaming blue eyes snapped open. House looked at his employee, seemingly unfazed. "If you raped me

in my sleep, please don't tell me." Chase felt his stomach churn. "House, I'm...I'm so sorry, I don't know – " Suddenly, the intensivist was grabbed roughly and

found his lips pressed on his employers'. "Mbel!" was all he managed to say, before his common sense took over and he began to kiss back.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, both doctors were lying on their backs, exhausted. House had an arm wrapped around his duckling and grinned as he said, "<em>Now<em> I know why

I hired you!" Chase glared mockingly and snuggled up to his boss. Suddenly, though, his eyes became worried as he remembered his situation. "Does...does

that mean I still have a job?"

"Unless you really did rape me...why not?"

"So – what do we do now?"

"_You_ get up and go attend the lecture."

"Yeah, I just – I meant about us."

House looked right at his duckling. "Nothing's changed."

"Of course it has. Everything's changed. I never even knew I was...gay. _Oh my God_. I'm gay."

"No you're not. Not necessarily. You just slept with another man."

Chase rubbed his temples. "I know. I slept with my _boss_. I can't believe I did that."

"Oh, come on. Let's get past all the catholic guilt. We'll talk about this later."

"Later, what do you mean, later? Don't you realise – "

"Chase!" Even in his current state, some part of the young doctor's brain reminded him it would be wise to shut up and listen to his supervisor.

"Yes?" he asked meekly.

"We will talk – _later_. Now, I want you to get up, put on something decent, and get the hell downstairs."

Chase managed to get ready, and was finally out of the door twenty minutes later. The second he was gone, House grabbed his cell.

* * *

><p>"House, what's up? I'm busy."<p>

"None of your cancer kids can be more important than what I'm gonna tell you."

"You always say that."

"It's always true."

"Not...the word I'd use."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I slept with Chase."

"Ow!"

"My success is physically hurting you?"

"I bumped into... – Loretta, sorry, I wasn't paying attention, are you alright?"

House listened impatiently as his best friend consoled the nurse he'd barreled into. Finally, the oncologist hurried on.

"House, are you saying you're...gay?"

"I guess. Relax, I didn't know before, so I haven't been trying to get you into bed. Except for maybe unconsciously. Very deeply buried."

"But what...you're not _serious_, are you?"

"Yes I am."

"But..."

"Wilson. It's true. I don't know how it happened, but it did."

"Well, what...what do you want me to say? I mean, do you want me to congratulate you? I'm not even sure I'm not dreaming all this, I just – "

"Don't freak out."

Wilson took a deep breath. "Sorry. But still, what am I supposed to say?"

House shut his eyes. "I don't know. Do you think we could...work out?"

"I don't know. He's younger. And your employee. Are you...in love with him?"

The diagnostician swallowed. "I think so."

"Well, what does he say?"

"I haven't talked to him. He's listening to that law thing."

"The lecture, right. So where are you?"

"In our room, I wasn't gonna put myself through all that crap."

"House, if Cuddy finds out..."

"How would she?"

"Okay...but still, you can't send Chase down there on his own."

"Sure I can."

"Well. You shouldn't. Not...not after what happened."

"I'm sure he's more comfortable away from me at the moment. And what happened doesn't change anything."

"It...kind of does."

"It won't."

"House, of course it will. Option A: You break up and fire him. That will mean someone new in your team, tell me you won't mind that. Option B; he stays on the

team, but you two break up...that will mean you have a history, and it won't be easy for either of you to be around each other. And option C; you don't break

up. Cuddy won't want you as his supervisor, so he'll be off the team, leading to the first outcome."

"You forgot about option D."

"What's that?"

"We stay together...and don't tell anyone."

* * *

><p>Down in one of the hotel's lecture halls, Chase was sitting trying not to think about the morning's events. Futilely. He kept drifting back to the moment he woke<p>

up and couldn't help but worry he'd be out of a job by the time he was back home. Sure, House had kissed _him_, not the other way around, but if House wanted

someone off the team...off the team they went. The intensivist sighed and stared at the sheet of paper he had used to jot down some of the facts the lecturer

was reeling off. Balling his fists, he willed himself to concentrate.

* * *

><p>When the intensivist was finally released from his misery, hours of fighting to sit still lay behind him. The lecture had been followed by a workshop which<p>

seemed to take ages – and after that, people had 'mingled', which Chase of course had felt obligated to join in on. Knowing his luck, if he left early, it would

probably get back to Cuddy that PPTH hadn't been represented properly, which would lead to House being yelled at. And if House was yelled at, his employees

suffered. So when the Australian arrived back in the lobby, clutching a folder of new material, he breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the elevator up to their floor,

that feeling faded and evolved to dread. Chase steeled himself and marched towards his room.

"Come in."

House was wrapped in a bathrobe, sitting on an armchair and reading a newspaper. He looked up when his duckling slunk in, but continued reading right

afterward. A couple of seconds passed.

"House?"

"What?"

"You promised we could talk."

"Oh, well, sure. I mean, if I _promised_, gee, of course we'll talk!" Chase looked crushed.

"But I really have quite a few questions, I mean – "

"Oh, relax. We'll talk. Meaning _I'll _talk, and you'll listen. And before answering, you will think. Got it?" The younger doctor nodded. He had long since ceased

being shocked by his supervisor's rudeness.

"Good. You have two choices. One, we carry on like normal. I'm your boss, and nothing else. And two, we see how being together works out. Either way, we

won't tell anyone about us. Understood?"

"I wasn't gonna tell any – "

"_Understood_?"

"Yes."

"So what's your answer?"

If Chase had looked at his employer, he'd have noticed the older doctor struggling to maintain his calm. But he stared at the bedspread, much too nervous to look at his employer.

"I... I'd like to try and...stay together."

House nodded and for a second, their eyes met. "Good."


	30. Chapter 30

_So sorry everyone! I had to go to Scotland for work unexpectedly, it was such a huge rush. :/ A short chapter now, and I'll post another one by the end of the _

_week...Thanks, Pallada, I'm glas it seemed to make sense like that. Sure thing, Rei. Verlan, I don't know yet – I'm finding it exceptionally hard to keep both of them _

_more or less in character while they're acting so very different from normal. I will, espogio, for a while at least! As always, thanks for all your reviews! :)_

* * *

><p>Once Chase had set down his papers and changed out of his suit, he gestured at his laptop. "Um, do you need me to do a report on today?"<p>

"You can do that tomorrow. Come here."

The intensivist was tempted, but unsure. "House, I'll have forgotten most of it by tomorrow."

"Think your boss will mind?"

"_His_ boss might."

"What do you care whether Cuddy's happy?" Chase shrugged uncomfortably.

"Well...if she gets mad at you, you take it out on us."

"Can't take it out on you, or else you'll withhold sex."

"I bet you will."

"Whatever. I don't want you torturing Foreman or Cameron either."

"Will you just _get over here_?" Sullenly, the Australian joined House on the bed. He let the older doctor lay an arm around him, but sighed.

"What?" Chase eyed his boss.

"Well, it's just...is that how it's gonna be? You _ordering_ me to cuddle when you feel like it?"

House was silent for a while, he hadn't expected such honesty. Finally, he said, "I'll...need some time."

"What for?"

"To get used to it all."

"You mean, so you don't treat me like crap?"

"Yes. And even then, I won't be a perfect gentleman. So if you're expecting huge changes, that's not gonna happen."

Chase shook his head. "I don't want you to change. In general. Just, you know, try to treat me a little less like an employee..."

"I'll try."

"Thanks." The intensivist grinned playfully, "Now – come here!"

* * *

><p>The two doctors got more and more relaxed around each other, and Chase managed to forget how terrifying his supervisor could be – if only for a while. The<p>

pair had dinner sent up and snuggled in front of the TV while eating. Suddenly, Chase's eyes lit up. He hit the mute button on the remote and faced his boss,

smiling broadly.

"Does this mean I won't be doing your clinic duty any more?" he asked excitedly. It seemed like a little thing, but these hours on top of all his other duties had

really started to tire out the young man. House raised an eyebrow, amused at his duckling's glee.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'll start doing my own clinic duty if Cuddy's not breathing down my neck." Chase's face fell, and the diagnostician

added, "No reason not to make Foreman do his part, though."

"You mean your part."

"Yeah."

And both of them grinned mischievously.

* * *

><p>The next morning, House was the first to wake up. He ran a finger across his employee's cheek, waking him up gently. Chase blinked and smiled tiredly. "That's<p>

a nice change..." he yawned. House cocked his head.

"What is?"

"Normally you wake people up by throwing stuff at them."

The diagnostician smirked. "Oh yeah. Sorry for that...breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

Shortly after, the pair was sitting at a table, eating pancakes happily. When House had finished his, he got up slowly, taking care not to wince at the shooting

pain in his leg. Chase had stood as well – he'd learned to anticipate House's wishes to avoid being blamed later on. Now, he was looking at his boss, confused.

"What are you doing?"

The diagnostician gestured at his empty plate.

"Getting myself a second helping."

Chase shook his head.

"I'll get it." he reached for his employer's plate, but the older doctor blocked his path.

"Don't. You're right, this won't work if I keep treating you like an employee."

"You aren't. I'm doing this because I _want_ to, not because you told me to. That's a big difference."

"So it's okay if you run around for me as long as it was your idea?"

Chase looked ready to protest, but thought better of it. "Yeah. Pretty much."

House blinked and shrugged, sitting down again. "Fine with me."

* * *

><p>After the two doctors had finished their breakfast, Chase studied the tablecloth for a while before facing his boss. "I need to be in the lecture hall in a few<p>

minutes."

House nodded. "I know."

"Will you come?" The older doctor looked at the Australian incredulously.

"No."

Chase rubbed his nose. "Are you sure?"

House shot his wombat a look, and the younger doctor bit his lip. Obviously, "no" still meant exactly that, relationship or no relationship. The intensivist got up,

but House gestured for him to sit down again.

"You can leave early, if you want."

"What about Cuddy?"

"She won't find out." House smirked, adding, "And if she does, I'll tell her I made you take me to a strip bar."

"Please don't." But Chase was smiling as he got up, giving House a quick, bashful kiss before leaving.

* * *

><p>The intensivist got back shortly after five, eagerly awaited by his employer.<p>

"Finally!"

"Leaving any earlier would have been really obvious."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we have some fun now?"

Chase raised his eyebrows. "Um, not exactly. I mean, I still have to do two reports."

"Forget the reports."

"We have to be able to show Cuddy something. _You_ have to."

"I'll take care of that. Later."

The Australian wasn't convinced. "How?"

"Oh, I'll think of something."

Chase sighed, but gave in. "Okay then."

"I ran us a bath."

* * *

><p>When the two doctors were lying in bed that night, arms around each other, Chase faced his employer. "So, how are we gonna keep everyone from finding out<p>

about us?"

"I'm a master of deduction, and you're sly as a gipsy. We have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not sly."

"Of course you are. As if your humility and subservience have ever been real." The young doctor looked genuinely hurt, and House rolled his eyes. "Come on."

Chase shrugged. "I did honestly admire you..."

"You don't any more?"

"Of course I do."

"You're doing it again."

"I'm not doing anything. House, you can diagnose people after looking at them for five seconds. You notice every little detail about everyone, you know when

people are lying to you and you have an insane knowledge about the world. I'm not ashamed of admiring you."

The older doctor looked away, but Chase sensed he was pleased. "You're still sly." House muttered, trying not to let his employee see he was smiling.


	31. Chapter 31

_Thanks everyone! I'm working on that Pallada, and you're right, it is hard. Thank you, Rei! Yes, assioma, that won't be easy. Espogio, I think so too, we'll see..._

* * *

><p>The next morning, Chase got up early and started packing. House woke up to the sound of his duckling rummaging around in the bathroom.<p>

"What're you doing?" he called sleepily.

"Packing."

"Now?"

"We have to be out of here in half an hour. I've already organized your stuff."

"Great." the diagnostician yawned, and turned around, falling asleep again immediately.

He was woken again fifteen minutes later, quite roughly this time. Chase was shaking him mercilessly. "We have to leave!"

"But mom...five more minutes..."

"House, come on. Please get up."

"If you had let me sleep last night – "

"That's rich. I told you we should have gone to bed earlier."

"It's still your fault. For being hot. You seduced me."

Rolling his eyes, Chase gave up.

"Whatever. Will you just get dressed now?"

"What are you afraid of? Think house cleaning is gonna break down the door?"

"No, but I'm quite sure the train we've booked seats on will leave whether we're at the station or not."

House shrugged, but started to get up slowly. His wombat had a point, and he was trying hard to be less of a jerk. Which didn't stop him from looking at the

younger man sadly as soon as he was showered and dressed.

"I'm hungry."

"I suppose that's my fault too?"

"Well, you did lead me to burn energy. And you woke me up much too late, because now, we don't have time for breakfast."

Chase shook his head and, after stuffing a few last items into House's suitcase, tossed a paper bag at his boss.

"What's that?" the diagnostician asked, already unwrapping the package and discovering a danish. "Wow, breakfast." His mouth full, he beamed at his

employee, "You're awesome!"

* * *

><p>Shortly after, the pair was making its way to the train station. Chase was carrying his bag and pulling House's suitcase along with him but this time, he didn't<p>

mind. And the diagnostician had insisted on taking his employee's laptop, at least.

"Chase?"

"Yeah?" The Australian sounded slightly worried at the other doctor's serious voice.

"You'll break up with Janie, right?"

"I...kind of already did."

"When?"

"I called her. This morning."

"How'd she take it?"

Chase paused before admitting, "Pretty well, actually."

"You didn't tell her about us?"

"'Course not. I told her my life was kind of complicated right now. She agreed."

"She would."

"Well – it is."

House nodded shortly, glancing at his duckling. "I know."

* * *

><p>Because House had been awarded two additional days away from the hospital, Cuddy had told him in no uncertain terms he had better appear at the hospital<p>

as soon as he was back in town, case or no case. This of course meant that Chase, too, had to go straight to the hospital. Which was problematic in itself –

they had shared a cab, going to their respective apartments to drop off their luggage, but the scenario of House willingly staying in the company of any of his

ducklings was suspicious, to say the least.

House frowned. "We could say we shared 'cause I didn't want to pay?"

"People would definitely believe that. But the hospital's cobering expenses, isn't it?"

"Damn."

"Maybe we shared because there was only one free cab...it _is_ raining."

"Right. Because I'd have trouble leaving you stranded somewhere. Sounds like me."

Chase sighed. "Well, what are we gonna say?"

The older doctor didn't answer and finally, his intensivist shrugged. "I'll just ask to be let out before we're on campus."

"I could do that."

"Stop it."

"What? I'm incapable of walking a couple hundred yards? Cane's just for decoration?"

"House...shut up."

The diagnostician's eyes opened wide, he stared at his employee.

"What the hell?"

The Australian didn't back down. "You're being an idiot."

"Still..."

"What? I'm not allowed to call you on it when you're being moronic? How many times have you told me the exact same thing? And don't just point out you're

my boss."

"I _am_ your boss."

"You're not only my boss, you're my...well, we're together. So I need to be able to be honest with you. I know you can walk. I also know...it hurts you to walk."

House started to speak and then flicked his eyes at the unhappy wombat beside him. He looked away again and stared out of the window, watching the

raindrops desperately clinging to the car. Finally, he faced his duckling again and sighed. "Fine." he muttered and felt his hand being squeezed warmly.

* * *

><p>The closer they got to the hospital, the more quiet Chase became. House sensed the young doctor was worried about seeing his colleagues, and silently<p>

vowed to protect his duckling against anyone even remotely unfriendly. He watched the Australian climb out into the rain and smiled, trying hard to be

reassuring. "Don't get wet!" he advised, smile turning into a smirk.

Chase snorted, knowing that was going to be impossible and also knowing his boss was aware of this. "Sure."

* * *

><p>Chase, having taken a shortcut through the parking lot, arrived in front of the hospital just seconds after House's cab pulled up. He was a good deal wetter,<p>

though.

"You look...good." the diagnostician complimented sarcastically, getting out of the car while studying the other man's wet hair hanging down in strands. The

intensivist went right on past his boss, stopping only when he had arrived under the awning. He shook himself like a dog, drops of water flying

everywhere, while House limped towards him. He watched his employee shake himself again and then raised his eyebrows. "And..._scene_."

The two doctors managed to get up to the department of diagnostics without being stopped. House strode into the conference room and was immediately back

in character, managing to ignore Chase entirely as he opened the door – and consequently only narrowly avoiding to slam said door into his duckling's face.

"House!" The intensivist exclaimed, and was about to say quite a bit more, when he remembered that in his role as duckling, he was supposed to accept

whatever his crazy boss did. Keeping his comments to himself.

* * *

><p>While House, as usual, limped into his office without greeting his employees, Chase entered the room. "Hey." he grinned at his colleagues, both of whom were<p>

wearing the same puzzled expression. It took a while for Chase to realize his shout to their supervisor must have been a little too bold, as it had certainly

shocked his colleagues. He decided not to mention it, hoping they wouldn't become suspicious. Flopping down on his chair, the Australian gratefully accepted

the mug of coffee Cameron was holding out to him. "Thanks!"

"You're dripping wet." Foreman observed, as if that fact could be new to his coworker.

"I...know."

"Didn't you take a cab from the station?" Cameron inquired worriedly.

"No, I – there were none. I would've been waiting for ages."

The immunologist leaned in, keeping her voice low, "So – how was it?"

"Um..."

"That bad?"

Chase shrugged, dropping his gaze to appear even more pitiful. Before he could respond, House entered. He had been listening to every word and didn't trust

Chase's acting skills to deal with the questions that would undoubtedly follow. The diagnostician started rooting around in the cupboards, while his employees

sat at the table silently, sharing glances. When House turned around, he glared at them, not pleased at all. "_Cameron_!"

The immunologist flinched, asking, "Yeah?"

"Go buy animal crackers."

Cameron nodded and got up quickly, wondering what had put her boss in such a bad mood. Meanwhile, House pointed at Foreman. "You, type up Chase's

notes."

"Notes?"

"Yes, notes. People say stuff, other people write it down – you know the concept?"

The neurologist shot Chase a look, obviously asking who he should blame for his employer's state, but the blond doctor just shrugged helplessly.

"Why am I typing up Chase's notes?"

"Because at the moment, I wouldn't trust our Aussie to cut bread."

Foreman closed his eyes for a second and then sighed, nodding. He took the file Chase was holding out to him and started towards the computer, but stopped

when House called out his name.

"What?"

"Get out. Go do it in the doctor's lounge, Wilson's office, anywhere. Not in here."

To empathize his words, House limped towards the hallway himself, shooing Foreman out. Chase was still in his chair, looking at his retreating boss confusedly,

when the diagnostician turned around.

"Chase."

"Um...yeah?"

"Leave the room, you're dead."


	32. Chapter 32

_Thank you, verlan, that means a lot – I really was worried! Pallada, dear, sorry...this will probably be the second-to-last chapter. This fic's already about twice as long as _

_I'd planned, thanks to all your wonderful reviews! Thank you Rei (I liked that scene too) and thanks, akosiha! No, assioma, he can't...and that won't ever change, I _

_think :D_

* * *

><p>Chase was left to sit in the conference room, trying to understand what had just happened. He suspected House had been acting, of course, but his<p>

performance had been incredibly authentic. It took a lot of courage for the intensivist to leave the room at last, going against House's orders. But the fact that

he was still soaked made the decision to go change in the doctor's lounge a little easier.

When the intensivist returned, clad in a fresh shirt and his lab coat, he looked around for House nervously – before impatiently telling himself that he had

nothing to be afraid of. In any case, his boss wasn't even there. Chase sat down at the table and began chewing his lip, catching sight of the stain beneath the

white-board. It had been there ever since House had made Foreman trip as payback for being annoyingly chipper one morning...while the neurologist was

carrying a cup of coffee. Sighing, Chase remembered he'd been assigned to clean the carpet as punishment for something or other, and decided getting to

work on that would be the best course of action.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Wilson's office, Foreman was sitting typing up his Australian colleague's notes, while Wilson had been forced to accompany his friend to the<p>

cafeteria. The oncologist started asking questions as soon as they were out of earshot.

"How did he take it? You didn't fire him, did you? Have you told Cuddy? Are you – "

"Get a grip!" House growled, glaring at the other doctor. "We'll try to work it out. So keep quiet!"

Wilson waved his hands dismissively, "I won't tell anyone. But how will you keep something like that secret?"

"If you can manage to keep your big mouth – "

"I _said_ I would! Still. What if someone finds out?"

"Then they'll know."

The oncologist sighed at his friend's stubbornness. "Don't pretend you wouldn't care. She does have the power to take Chase off the team, you know? Never

mind fire him."

"She won't."

"House, you're useless when it comes to office politics as it is."

"Exactly. So it's irrelevant whether Chase and I are together."

"No it's not. You'll start to play favorites, making Foreman and Cameron do the scut work."

"Yeah...you're forgetting I do that already. Last week I determined who'd be checking that old guy's seeping wart by calculating the donuts each one of them

had bought me recently."

Wilson shook his head in disbelief, and then looked interested despite himself. "Who won?"

"Chase. Made Foreman do it."

The younger doctor sighed. "Well, but you'll give more thought to Chase's ideas."

"So? That's what Cuddy wants. Go ask her. She'll say we're a teaching hospital and need to give young doctors more responsibility. While nurturing them.

That's what she screeches every time she hears I had one of them drop off my laundry."

"You have your fellows drop off your _laundry_?"

Before Wilson could voice his exasperation, another voice asked, in exactly the same tone, "You're sitting here having _lunch_?"

House turned around and found himself face to face with his boss. He screwed up his face as if in agony at her sight. "Cuddy."

"House. Why am I seeing you in here?"

The diagnostician raised his eyebrows. "Don't know if you've noticed – but they give away food. In exchange for money, but, well...food's food."

"I mean, why am I seeing you here, when I've been paging you four times in the last thirty minutes?"

"Turned the little gizmo off. Got annoying."

Wilson looked apprehensive and started gathering his things, not wanting to be caught between his boss and colleague when they began laying into each

other. Cuddy, meanwhile, was suppressing a snarl. "Need you for a consult. _Now_." Her employee made a face and got up, deliberately slow.

"Sorry, Wilson. Mommy's calling."

He started limping away, herded into the right direction by Cuddy and both of them still exchanging scathing remarks at a breathtaking speed. Wilson leaned

back and rubbed his temples, groaning softly. Those two.

* * *

><p>Back in the office, Chase was scrubbing away at the carpet, when the door behind him opened. He started, turning around to see who had entered.<p>

"Hey."

"Dr. Wilson, hi."

"I was just – is House having you clean the _carpet_?"

"Um...yeah..."

"Why?"

"Well, Foreman tripped over his cane, and when he – "

"No, that's not what I meant. It's just, you're – you're together, aren't you?"

Chase blushed, gulping. "He...he told you?"

"Yes. Did he say he wouldn't?"

"That was what we'd agreed on, yeah."

Wilson nodded. "I'm sorry, I – well, you know House. But I really thought he'd be less of an ass to you now."

"He is." the intensivist said, sounding surprised.

"You're cleaning the carpet."

"Oh, that. He said I should when we were away. I just figured it needed to be done, so..."

"He told you to clean a carpet a hundred miles away?"

"As payback for something, I don't even remember. I think...yeah, I wasn't thrilled at playing 'truth or dare' with him. That pissed him off."

Wilson nodded again, blinking a couple of times.

"Okay. Well. Just, you know, take care. And tell me if I can do anything to help."

"Thanks. I will." With that, the Australian turned back to his work and his colleague left the room.

* * *

><p>Shortly after, Cameron returned from her quest for the biggest box of animal crackers she could find. "Need any help?" she asked, seeing the blond doctor<p>

scrubbing at the coffee stain she had almost removed several times. Foreman had always talked her out of it, claiming House should clean up his own mess. As

if that ever happened. Chase looked up.

"Almost done."

Cameron offered her colleague one of the chocolate bars she had bought in addition to House's crackers. Gratefully, the intensivist grabbed it. His colleague

shook her head, looking at him pityingly.

"House is a jerk."

Mouth full, Chase cocked his head. "Why?" he mumbled.

"Well, because he's having you clean up that stain. If he hadn't made Foreman trip..."

"Oh, that. Yeah. What are you gonna do?"

Slightly surprised at that response, Cameron opened her mouth to answer, when the door opened again. Cuddy entered, looking annoyed.

"Where's House?" she demanded, only to be met with blank stares.

"Not...here." Chase replied.

"I can see that."

"Sorry, we haven't seen him since he stormed off about half an hour ago..." Cameron added.

Cuddy didn't seem happy. "Fine. I wanted to talk to you, as well."

"To me?"

"No. To Dr. Chase, actually."

Chase had gotten up, leaving the stain faded and almost invisible. "What's up?"

"I'd like to know which lectures House attended."

"Well...all of them."

"Dr. Chase..."

The intensivist dropped his gaze. "Honestly." he said, in as firm a voice as he could muster.

Cuddy didn't believe him for one second. She scoffed, but looked at the young doctor with a certain understanding in her eyes. "I...realize House is unusually

hard on you at the moment?"

Chase kept his eyes fixed on the floor firmly, but Cameron jumped in to support her colleague. "He's making his life hell."

The dean nodded, looking at her employees. "Would you like me to talk to him?"

At this, Chase's head snapped up. "No. Don't, please."

"Would it be...more helpful if he got the impression I was entirely satisfied with your report of his commitment to the job?" The Australian nodded.

"That would be great. Thanks!" With a sad smile, Cuddy left. It was lucky Cameron didn't notice the sly grin Chase sported when she'd closed the door behind

her...


	33. Chapter 33

_Oh yes, Rei, he is! Wow, Pallada, yes – I didn't even realise. And it's especially amazing to me, because this is my first longer fic...many thanks to you guys for _

_reviewing, and a slightly longer chapter to celebrate :)  
><em>

_Read on and you'll find out, akosiha – and espogio, he will need to. He just dreads the conversation._

* * *

><p>Cameron didn't have the chance to further question her colleague because, mere seconds after Cuddy had left, House appeared. He sneaked in quietly,<p>

immediately closing the door behind him.

"Escaped again!" the diagnostician proclaimed proudly, smirking. Cameron frowned in disapproval.

"Cuddy wants to talk to you."

"Exactly. And I have no plans of doing that." House sat down at the conference table, ripping open the box of crackers he found sitting there. He started

munching and glanced at Chase, still eating his chocolate bar while holding a cup of coffee.

"Your hands are red."

The Australian studied his palms and, indeed, they were a slightly different shade. He hadn't noticed himself, but of course his boss would. Chase shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I...don't know."

House frowned and then looked straight at the younger man. "You cleaned the carpet."

The intensivist nodded, understanding. The cleaning liquid had irritated his skin, obviously.

"Right, yeah."

House was silent for a second and then glared at Cameron, who was still standing. "Don't you have anything to do?"

"No. What should I be doing?"

"Something worthwhile. You're not paid to stand around dumbly."

The immunologist looked at her boss disbelievingly, "We don't have a case. And how come Chase is allowed to sit here doing nothing, but I'm not?"

House grimaced. He had walked right into that one. Regaining his composure in a matter of seconds, he explained coolly: "Dr. Chase is on probation. Will be for

a while, too." the diagnostician raised his eyebrows threateningly, "Wanna trade?"

Cameron tried to hold his gaze, but looked away at last. She bit her lip. "No." she admitted, and her employer nodded, "I thought so."

"I'll...I'll go see if I can help in the clinic."

* * *

><p>Left alone, House got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Why'd you clean the carpet?"<p>

Chase shrugged. "Because you said so."

"I was just jerking you around. You don't always have to do everything I tell you to do."

"I guess I'm just...I'm used to it."

House accepted that and pointed at his employee's checked shirt and bright green tie. "Daring combination!" he commented drily.

Chase met his employer's gaze. He swallowed nervously.

"I – I was soaked, so..."

House stared. "Soaked."

"Yeah. From the rain?"

"Why are you telling me that?"

"Because...I'm just explaining why I got changed."

"I don't _care_ that you got changed."

"But – you told me not to leave the room..." House snorted.

"I only said that so Foreman and Cameron wouldn't get suspicious. You sure aren't the brightest wombat, are you?"

Chase glared for a fraction of a second, before shaking his head.

"This won't be easy."

The older doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Nothing happened."

"Yeah, but if we want to keep everyone in the dark..."

"...we'll have to keep up the act. It's not that hard, actually. You pretend to be the good duckling, I'm the evil genius."

The intensivist sighed. "I don't know." remembering something, he added, "You told Wilson!"

"I tell Wilson everything." Seeing Chase's look, the diagnostician managed to look contrite. Slightly. "I'm sorry."

His employee nodded, sighing softly yet again. "It's okay. He'd have been my first pick, too."

Normally, House would have pointed out how depressing that statement was – never mind confiding in friends or family, Chase was closest with his

supervisor's best friend – but he held his tongue.

* * *

><p>"House!" a voice screeched suddenly, and the diagnostician cringed. Cuddy had found him after all. Furiously, the dean of medicine stormed in and glared at her<p>

employee. "What the _hell_?"

While Chase looked on, wide-eyed, House tried to appear innocent.

"Hello, Cuddy!" he greeted.

"When I said 'need you for a consult', how did you think I could have meant that?"

"Well, you were busy, so I thought I'd give you some personal time."

"I was talking to Nurse Brenda." the administrator snarled, "For about _two_ minutes. I swear, you're just like a first-grader."

House looked up at her, chin wobbling like that of a scolded child, "Am I grounded?"

"You wish. You're coming with me. To the clinic. And don't you _dare_ try anything!"

Rolling his eyes, House took a last gulp from his coffee and got up. Remembering appearances needed to be kept up, he barked, "Chase!"

The intensivist flinched. "Yes?" he asked timidly.

"You can take care of the discharge summaries in my office."

The Australian nodded, and House was about to leave, when he noticed Cuddy glancing at him – surprised, and pleased. Her employee frowned, realizing what

she had to be thinking. Chase was still sitting at the table comfortably, instead of scurrying off to do what he'd been told. House grimaced. It had to be done.

"_Chase_!" At the terrified look in his duckling's eyes, the diagnostician winced. He forced himself to growl, "_Get_!" in his most intimidating tone. Chase jumped

up and practically sprinted to the glass wall, disappearing a second later. And when House turned back to Cuddy, she was wearing her trademark look of

disapproval and gesturing for him to leave the room. "You can't treat your team like that, House." she began exasperatedly once they were out of earshot,

continuing, "A, you're creating a hostile work environment, and B, – " but by then, House had stopped listening. His thoughts were with someone else entirely...

* * *

><p>That someone meanwhile was conflicted again. Did House really want him to sort out the mountain of discharge summaries? Usually, he gave that tedious job<p>

to whichever underling had annoyed him the most...rubbing his temples, Chase sat down at his employer's desk and got to work. Better not take any chances.

When House returned, Cuddy was still with him. "I'm not interested in your opinion. You are taking this case! We don't deny treatment based on the

intelligence of out patients."

* * *

><p>"But he's such a moron." House whined, doing his best to seem pitiful.<p>

"I. Don't. Care."

"We only just got back!"

"From a two day lecture combined with a two day _vacation_. And Dr. Chase tells me you attended the lectures, so I'll let you off clinic duty like I said. But you are

taking this case. I know you're interested, you're just trying to be annoying for the sake of it."

House grabbed the file out of his employer's hand. "Fine." he grumbled, turning a corner towards his department.

* * *

><p>Back in the conference room, Foreman was sitting beside Cameron, both of them reading parts of the same newspaper.<p>

"What are you two doing here?" their employer asked when he had entered.

"Cuddy paged us." Foreman explained, "Apparently, there's some case she knew you'd take?"

House rolled his eyes. "Sly bitch. Chase, care to join us?!"

The Australian walked in from the diagnostician's inner sanctum, looking annoyed. He had gotten up the moment he'd heard his boss enter. Biting back an

irritated retort asking why, exactly, he was being shouted for, Chase sat down. House had written, "Moron" on the white-board and listed symptoms beneath:

"peeing blood", "nausea" and "fatigue".

"Forget 'fatigue', the guy's just used to watching soaps all day, the excitement's tiring him out."

Foreman smirked. "Soaps? Shame on him. How intelligent people can throw away their lives like that, I will just never – "

"If you value your job, you'll stop talking." House advised, glaring at his neurologist.

Foreman kept grinning, but was silent at least.

"Differential diagnosis."

Cameron spoke up, "How about a bladder infection?"

"Wow. 'Urine' as her only clue, and Dr. Cameron daringly goes to 'bladder'. Boys, I think we have a winner!"

While Cameron scowled, Foreman looked unconvinced. "He'd be in pain. And there's no way you'd take a simple case of bladder infection."

"Exactly. So what's your pick?"

"Common cause of hematuria is sickle cell."

"Or a kidney stone..." Chase added.

House nodded. "Go find it."

* * *

><p>Cameron and Foreman left, while Chase kept his seat. As soon as the two team members were out of sight, House turned to his intensivist. "How the hell did<p>

you manage to convince Cuddy I'd attended all the lectures?"

"I didn't."

"But she said – "

"I convinced her if she punished you, you'd take it out on me."

"Like I said. Sly."

Chase grinned...the proud tone was acknowledgment enough. He leaned against his employer's chest, and House kissed the younger man gently, stroking the

hair out of his face. "You look exhausted."

Chase smiled bravely. "Just tired. And hungry." All he'd eaten the whole day had been Cameron's chocolate bar, and his stomach lining was threatening to

digest itself.

At his duckling's comment, the diagnostician stared. "You have eaten something, haven't you?"

"No. When? I was with you, and then I was in here."

"When you're hungry, go eat something. Have I ever stopped you from getting a snack?"

Chase gaped at his boss. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"But – of course you have. If Cameron and Foreman went to lunch now, instead of taking care of the patient, you'd kill them."

House grimaced, realizing his duckling was right.

"Go get some lunch!" he said, sighing at the speed with which his wombat left the room.


	34. Chapter 34

_I know verlan, me neither! He will, Hawkfire 28, and thank you...thanks Pallada, just one more to come. House will need to work on that quite a bit, assioma, and yeah, _

_I like those moments a lot too! Very short chapter, everyone, so don't be disappointed!  
><em>

* * *

><p>In the patient's room, a man sitting in bed was shaking his head violently. "I'm not havin' no nuclear power shot through my body, thanks!"<p>

Cameron sighed. "Mr. Alton, as we've explained: the dose of radiation is – "

"My old man got an electronic shock once. Wasn't pretty. No, Nurse Cameron, that ain't no option for me."

"It's _Dr._ Cameron, actually."

"Dr. Cameron, is that your hubby? You tell him he shouldn't let his wife worry her pretty little head like this!"

While Cameron argued with their patient, House waited for his favourite duckling to return. When he did, the Australian had a paper bag with him. He set it

down on the table and began unwrapping two bagels, some ready-to-eat fresh fruit in plastic containers and a couple of brownies. House smiled, and the two

tucked in. But the diagnosticians good mood didn't last long:

"It's almost six." he whined, checking his watch.

Chase shrugged. "So?"

"So, that means it's time to go home." his eyes glinted, "Let's play hooky!"

"We can't."

"Sure. I do it all the time."

"Let me rephrase: _I_ can't. Think about it. Why would I suddenly do that?"

"Because I've driven you nuts."

"Possible. But how would we explain the lack of punishment tomorrow? The others would never believe that."

"Damn. I wish I was less intimidating."

"No you don't."

"True." the diagnostician was quiet for a while. "You did a lot of those discharge summaries."

"Yeah."

"We've had this conversation. I'm just playing my part. You're not supposed to take me serious."

"Until I am. What if we disagree on a critical patient's treatment, for example?"

House narrowed his eyes, getting angry at the mere idea of his own duckling standing between himself and a puzzle. "Then you'll do what I say." he said

sharply, adding after a pause, "...because the patient's my responsibility.

Chase simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for his boss to acknowledge he was contradicting himself.

Which didn't take long. "Okay, we have a problem. We need a signal."

"A signal?"

"Yeah. Like a safe-word. How about...'Dr. Stalin has left the sushi-bar'?"

"Right...that's not too obvious."

House huffed in mock exasperation. "_Fine_. I'll just make a fist then. And whenever I do, you'll know I'm not serious." The Australian nodded slowly.

"That...could work."

"And also, I realise it's...my fault."

"What?" Chase was stunned. House admitting he'd done something wrong? That had to be a first.

"About you doing whatever I say. You're afraid of me. Always were, and still are. You had a predisposition from the beginning, but I encouraged you." The

diagnostician smirked. "Pity we have to undo all my hard work now, actually."

The younger man scowled. "Right, pity." he mumbled.

"Positive reinforcement."

"Huh?"

"When you stand up to me, I'll reward you in some way. Different...treats to keep it fun. It's worked before."

"What do you mean, it's worked before?"

"Come on. You know I'm training you guys. Why do you think I let Cameron write on the board when she keeps her cool with a patient? Foreman's grasped he

can get out of doing too many rectal exams by backing me up when Wilson gets annoying...and with you – well – all those times my cane 'accidentally' hit your

shin?"

"To reinforce some behaviour of mine you _thump_ me?"

"I vary between reinforcement and punishment."

"Good God."

"Come on. Don't pout. It's nothing personal."

The intensivist sighed. "No canes involved this time, right?"

"No."

"Okay. But...you have to admit you have some serious issues."

The older doctor stuck out his tongue. "Well I'm rubber, and you're glue."

"Jerk."

"Pussy."

Chase grinned. "Ass."

"Idiot."

* * *

><p>At that moment, Cameron stormed in, closely followed by Foreman. In a heartbeat, House sweeped all the empty wrappers towards himself, leaving Chase with<p>

the opened patient file in front of him – it would be decidedly out of character for the department head to eat with his duckling. Especially since that same

duckling was supposedly in his bad books...

"He is _such_ a moron!" The only female doctor spat, throwing herself down on a chair.

"Told you." The department head replied happily. "So, what's his kidney look like?"

"Clean." she answered, resignedly.

"What about his pee?"

Foreman grimaced at that. "We didn't check." he admitted.

House glared. "May I ask why?"

"We got him to consent to the CT!" Cameron said defensively.

"Wow. Clearly, your skills are wasted with me. You should be, like...a doctor or something."

"It took _ages_!"

"So you decided not to waste any more time looking at his catheter."

"We just forgot, House. Will you let it go?"

"This is a hospital. You forget things, people die. Get going."

After a silent debate with his colleague, Foreman stood up reluctantly.

"If you're not back in ten minutes, you can amuse yourself tonight by proof-reading our list of expenses for this year." House threatened, pissed off.

Foreman just rolled his eyes, walking deliberately slow until he was out of sight.

He made it back in under eight minutes anyway, out of breath. "He's vomiting."

"Blood?"

"Yeah."

"So annoying us with one kind of bodily fluid wasn't good enough." House caught Chase's worried frown at that sentence, but assumed it was just professional

concern. It was only when the Australian rose, still staring at him, that the diagnostician gestured for him to speak. "What's up?"

Chase hesitated. "Uh, do you – d'you want me to take care of him?"


	35. Chapter 35

_Longer chapter to celebrate. Though it's a sad occasion, of course..._

* * *

><p>Inwardly, House groaned. Damn that memory of his blond duckling. Of course Chase would remember he'd been assigned all bodily fluids...and willingly making<p>

his boss aware of it was decidedly in character too. The diagnostician flashed a smirk. "Yes, Dr. Chase, please tend to our patient!"

He was careful to keep his balled fists visible, but the Australian didn't even glance back as he rushed out of the room. "House?" That was Cameron.

"House, what was all that about?"

Reluctantly, the department head focused on his employee. "What?" he spat angrily.

"Why was Chase so eager to clean up vomit?" Cameron asked curiously.

"Because he knew he'd have to either way."

"Why?"

"Our wombat is taking care of all the nasty stuff this week. Got a problem with that?"

The immunologist swallowed an angry retort. "No." she lied.

The two young doctors and their employer spent the time Chase was gone discussing further options. When the Australian arrived back, they were in the

middle of a heated argument.

* * *

><p>"If it's sickle cell, an underlying infection is most – "<p>

"It's not sickle cell! I did the test myself, there was nothing – "

"The test isn't 100% reliable."

Foreman rolled his eyes and all three ducklings looked at House.

"No test ever is..." the diagnostician agreed, which made Cameron throw a pointed look at Foreman. "...but it's not sickle cell." Foreman smirked.

House rested his chin on the handle of his cane. "Cameron, Foreman – search his home! And Chase, clinic."

The three fellows got up, two of them doing nothing to hide their irritation...and the third doing everything to hide his glee at the sight of House's fist.

Chase had walked ahead to the elevator, and was waiting as his colleagues gathered their bags and coats. When they arrived, Cameron was pouting and

Foreman looked frustrated.

"You do know he's only making us check out the home because we couldn't agree on a diagnosis, don't you?" the immunologist ranted.

"We're checking out the home because we don't _have_ a diagnosis. House didn't think it was sickle cell either!"

"We could still have ran the test again."

"Well, I don't care if you want to waste your time. Just go and tell him so. What do you want me to do?"

They had arrived at the ground floor, and Chase left the elevator ahead of his fellow team members. "Guys, calm down. Even if House is only yanking your

chain, it won't pay to – argh!" the sudden yelp got his colleagues' attention. In a heartbeat, they were on the floor beside him.

"Chase, are you okay? Oh my God, you're bleeding!" Even though the blond doctor had tried to break his fall, he had knocked the side of his head against the

sharp edge of a radiator.

Foreman looked around. "You must have tripped – hey, you – get over here!" A medical student trotted towards them nervously. "Yes?"

"You left that cart standing right in front of the elevator, didn't you?"

The kid grimaced. "Sorry. I guess I didn't realize..."

"I'm sure you didn't." the neurologist glared, continuing, "Moron."

Chase, meanwhile, had sat up with Cameron's help.

"It's okay. I'm fine."

"No you're not!" Foreman brushed the Australian's hair aside. "That's a nasty cut. Not deep, but you'll need some stitches."

"Oh, rubbish. I told you – I feel fine!"

Cameron shook her head reproachfully. "There's no way you can work in the clinic now. I'll go up, tell House – "

"Okay, okay!" Chase raised his palms in surrender. "I'll get someone to stitch me up. You two go. Please. I don't need House yelling at me later for keeping

you."

Foreman shared a look with his female co-worker, and after a couple of seconds, the two relented.

"But you will get stitches?" Cameron asked again, sternly.

"Promise!"

* * *

><p>Chase did not intend to do anything of the sort. He went into one of the bathrooms, cleaning himself up. The wound had stopped bleeding already, and the<p>

intensivist decided the slight dizziness he felt was normal after taking such a blow to his head. Taking a moment to lean against the wall, he sighed softly

before making his way up to House.

The department head was busy stacking books on his desk to make a window for himself to look through. When Chase entered, he peeked through his wall of

knowledge. "It's the fearless knight!" he proclaimed to his imaginary troops, "He has finally returned from his quest – what happened to you?"

"I tripped. No big deal."

"You need stitches."

"Ungh. That's what Foreman and Cameron said. I don't need stitches. I'm an intensivist."

"Therefore, your healing process differs from that of a lowly general practitioner?"

"No. But I'll decide when I need stitches." House had picked up his tennis ball and was tossing it in an arc above his head. Then, he bounced it on the table

before throwing it at his duckling.

"Ow!" Chase protested, though the ball had only hit his elbow, and lightly at that.

"Your reaction time's off."

"No it isn't. You want it to be, so you'll have a reason to poke me with needles."

House motioned for his ball back, and reluctantly his employee complied. Which he regretted just seconds after, when said ball collided with his forehead,

painfully this time.

"House..." Chase ground out, snatching the older doctor's toy from the carpet. Fuming, he strode over to the window, wrenched it open – and let the treasured

ball drop.

* * *

><p>The department of diagnostic's was eerily silent. Chase had gone white as a sheet and was staring at the floor, hoping he would somehow get out of the room<p>

alive. House was staring at his wombat, speechless. When the diagnostician got up quietly, limping around the desk, the younger man tensed visibly. He was

standing completely still...when House put his hands on the other doctor's cheeks, tilting back his head. "Good boy." he said, like one would praise a dog,

before pressing his lips on Chase's.

* * *

><p>The kiss lasted for a while, the blond doctor leaning into it, and was only interrupted when the two heard steps outside. Chase tried to pull back, but House<p>

held on. "Wilson." the department head mumbled, but eventually, he lost the fight. Right as his best friend appeared in the doorway.

"Um...hello." Wilson said. It was very clear to him what the other two had been doing, but he tried not to let that show.

"Missing me?" House asked. He had stepped back from Chase, deciding that, fun as it may be to shock his friend, his wombat would probably whine about that

for ages.

"Not exactly. But I _was_ wondering where you were."

"We have a patient." Suddenly, House turned his head. He was staring at his employee. "Chase. You ate liquorice."

"Yeah, I...yeah. The patient offered me some."

"Your tongue's black."

"I know. So?"

"I know what's wrong. Page Foreman and Cameron." With that, House was gone. Wilson blinked at the Australian. "What happened to your head?"

* * *

><p>When House returned ten minutes later, his entire team and Wilson were sitting in the conference room, waiting. Chase was bouncing a certain red-and-<p>

grey-striped tennis ball on the glass table, which didn't surprise his boss. Of course the wombat would try to make amends...it had been a bold move.

House smirked, snatching the ball from his intensivist. "Cuddy will be so embarrassed."

"Why, what's he got?" Foreman asked. Cameron was too busy glaring at Chase, who had blatantly ignored her orders to get stitches immediately. The

department head walked to the whiteboard and underlined the word 'Moron'. "He suffers from a low IQ."

"We know that, what's it gotta do with – "

"He isn't sick."

Chase rolled his eyes. "No? 'Cause the vomit I cleaned up paints a different picture."

"You use _vomit_ for painting pictures?"

Wilson grinned, and Chase tried not to. House went on, "Fine, he was sick. But never _our_ level sick. All he has is food poisoning."

Foreman shook his head disbelievingly. "Then how do you explain him peeing blood?"

By now, the diagnostician was wearing his trademark, 'I'm-a-genius-and-I-know-it'-look. "Imagine you've made yourself a nice pot of veggies." he started,

"Healthy, yummy, the whole deal. Then, you realize...all that crap normal people eat, like mac 'n' cheese, has the advantage of not rotting. And most people

don't like rotten food. What do you do?"

Four sets of eyes blinked at the older doctor.

"You _chuck_ it." he said, using his well-rehearsed patronizing tone.

Cameron shook her head. "I don't get it."

"Keep in mind he's a moron." House advised, before sighing. "Fine. One more hint. How did we know he was peeing blood?"

Foreman shrugged. "He said so."

"Did we ever see any blood in his urine?"

"No."

Cameron frowned at House. "But why would he lie about that?"

"Chase, care to venture a guess?"

"Everybody lies." the intensivist replied without missing a beat, knowing House expected him to.

"Thanks. I'm concerned about you, Cameron, you should have grasped that by now. It's just two words. Though one's kind of long, true." The immunologist

scowled and replied, "I still don't think he was lying."

"He wasn't. You asked why he might lie, so that's the question I answered. Or Chase answered. But this guy didn't lie. At least, not knowingly."

Comprehension dawned on Foreman's face. Chase, too, looked like he had an idea where all this was going.

"He _thought_ he was peeing blood." the neurologist groaned.

His blond colleague wrinkled his forehead, "And the nausea was from...he ate _beetroot_!"

House nodded once. "Rotten beetroot. Which the moron forgot to flush down the toilet, only to panic and waste our time when everything was bright red."

"You confirmed with him?" Wilson asked, and his friend nodded. Then, the department head pointed at Foreman. "Tell whoever will be dealing with him to keep

him on clear fluids. Cameron, write up the report, and Chase, you're getting stitches."

"No, I'm not."

* * *

><p>Cameron and Foreman had already started to gather their things but at that, they froze. This should be interesting. Chase was staring at his employer's hand,<p>

which was not the least bit balled up.

"You can't just make decisions like that." the Australian said, glaring.

"Oh, come on. When have I ever cared about protocol?"

"It's my body. I'll decide – "

"You sound like a whiny fat kid who's denied his sixth piece of chocolate cake."

"House...just..._piss off_!"

Cameron flinched, Wilson cringed, and Foreman's eyes got wide. House, however...smiled.

He looked up at his employees. "You two, get out." he snarled. They were gone in seconds. House turned to his third duckling and the smile returned. He took

a chocolate bar from his coat pocket and passed it to the Australian, who accepted it in confusion. When he was kissed gently, his confusion got even bigger.

"You learn fast." House said proudly, ignoring Wilson's puzzled look.

Chase sighed and couldn't suppress a slight grin. "Thanks."

"I'm still stitching you up."

"I'm – "

House raised an eyebrow to make his wombat listen. "I'm worried." he said softly.

And Chase...got stitches.

* * *

><p><em>Well, everyone...this is it. I hope you liked my ending, it was the hardest part. I was happy about every single review and glad to see some new readers – thanks, <em>

_akosiha, Hawkfire28 and ElisabethFox – near the end. I would like to thank all of you for reassuring me and motivating me to continue...and not abandon this story _

_halfway through. Especially, as always, Pallada, verlan, espogio, assioma, zaffiro and Rei. You guys were simply awesome! Thanks, everyone._

_P.S.: Pallada...I think...I could actually be persuaded to write a sequel. :]_


End file.
